


An Endeavor for Dreamers

by nerdytf84fan



Series: One Star-Crossed Cowboy [4]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I love these soft boys, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-11-08 02:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17972447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdytf84fan/pseuds/nerdytf84fan
Summary: A lot has happened since Albert last saw Arthur, and it shows on the outlaw. Arthur mentions the mess the gang has gotten themselves into, and Albert suggests he take a vacation by accompanying him back to New York. He agrees to the idea, but first, he has to take care of a few things. It is certainly an endeavor for dreamers, but the two of them have hope that it will all work out.





	1. Promises to Keep

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last installment of this series (probably), but this work will have multiple chapters. :) Thanks for reading!

Albert sighed as he trudged down the street and towards the courtyard that his room overlooked. Between making a few bucks at the gallery and working halftime at the photo studio, he was exhausted. He realized that while it wasn't what he was best at, he longed to be traipsing through the wilderness once again instead of working in the city. The last few weeks had been a somber reminder of how dull and listless his life used to be, and he feared he was slipping back into it. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was Arthur who he deeply missed, not the wilderness. He hadn't seen him in a while, and it worried him. The outlaw had left after escorting him back to Saint Denis and had expressed his uncertainty as to when he would return, which was the reason for Albert’s extended stay in the city. In the meantime, waking or sleeping, Albert’s mind was plagued by plausible scenarios the man might've stumbled upon. Albert tried his best to remain optimistic, but Arthur's silent absence did nothing to subdue his worst fears.

When he entered the courtyard, he paused and stared at his feet. There was a ridiculous yet persistent hope that he would see the outlaw outside his door one day. Yet for a few weeks, it had been nothing but a silly fantasy. Albert drew a deep breath, still daring to hope, and gathered enough resolve to lift his eyes to the balcony outside his room.

His mouth fell open as he registered the sight before him. Arthur was there, smoking a cigarette and watching him as he leaned against the railing. It was like a beautiful daydream come true, and a broad smile instantly spread across Albert's face as his heart leapt for joy.

"Arthur! Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate!" He recited as he removed his hat to place it over his heart, his voice genuinely jovial for the first time in a while.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the display as he breathed out a smoky sigh and tossed his cigarette to the side.

"And your eyes,” he continued, “your eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright, that birds would sing and think it were not night."

The outlaw lowered his hat to hide his reddening face as he motioned for Albert to join him on the balcony.  “Would ya just get your ass up here already, Shakespeare?”

There were a few onlookers by now, but Albert only cared that Arthur was finally back.

He laughed before he climbed the stairs two at a time, dragging Arthur inside by his lapel once he reached his door. He instantly pulled him in for a kiss after shutting the door, fueled by both the ecstasy from knowing that he was alive and by how much he missed him. Arthur's stoic demeanor melted away for the moment as he held Albert’s face and responded in kind with his own desperate, open-mouthed kisses. Albert tangled his fingers with his hair and pulled him closer.

When Arthur finally parted, they were both breathless from the affectionate reunion. Albert placed his hands on either side of his face, staring into the blue eyes he had missed whenever he saw the sky.

It had been a while, but there was no mistaking that something had happened while Arthur was away. The deep sorrow in his eyes he recognized from when they had first met had returned, but underneath the pain was something else lurking just beneath. He couldn't place it, but looking into his eyes was like staring into a stormy sea. There was an edge to the outlaw that hadn't been there before, an anger that simmered underneath the sorrow and an aching for something Albert couldn't place.

Albert ran the back of his fingers along his cheek. "What happened?"

"Too much," he sighed as he pulled away and took a seat on a worn settee.

Albert stood in front of him and guided his head to rest against him, his fingers gently combing through his tousled hair and smoothing out any tangled strands. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

Arthur closed his eyes and concentrated on the delicate and tender movements of his hands. His fingers worked at his hair like they would with a camera, tactful yet gentle. What the gentleman didn’t know was that he was still trying to come to terms with all that had transpired in one week. Everything had unraveled so quickly that he hadn’t even had the chance to process Sean’s death. Between the move, their raid on the Braithwaite Manor, and rescuing Jack, there just simply hadn’t been the time for it. He heaved a sigh and lifted his hand to hold one of Albert’s.

With a fierce ache, Albert wished he could help ease his pain. He’d never seen the man so utterly demoralized. Arthur had a resilient, inner strength that inspired him and watching him reach such a low was something he thought he would never see.

He kissed the back of his hand and knelt down to meet his eyes. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we? Some fresh air may help clear that mind of yours.”

Arthur grunted and rose to his feet before following him outside.

They walked in silence for a while, cherishing the presence of the other that they had dearly missed. Albert took his hand as they reached the small pond just outside the city and led him to a bench along the bank.

“Tell me your woes, dearest Arthur. You look like you need someone to lend an ear to them.” Albert said as they took a seat.

Arthur watched the sunlight reflect off the gentle waves of the pond, trying to think of where to start. “We got in the middle of a blood feud thinkin’ we could outsmart the two families and rob their money. A friend of mine paid the price for our mistake. He was like an annoying little brother to me.” He paused, and the anger that had been simmering rose to the surface. “Sean was a good kid, and I can’t quit thinking that it should’ve been Micah to end up with that damn bullet in his head and left to die in the street like the dog he is!” 

Albert flinched at the venom that laced his voice. His eyes burned bright with fire for an instant, staring hard at the water that starkly contrasted the surge of resentment and ire. The heat of his anger didn’t stay long, expelling from him with a sigh and a series of coughs as he propped an elbow on his knee and rested his head in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Al, I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” He replied as he gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It sounds like you and this…Micah, have some disagreements.”

Arthur let out a sharp scoff. “ _Disagreements_ , that’s rich.”

“I suppose that’s too mild of a word for it?”

“You could say that,”

Albert eyed him for a moment. “The way you talk about him makes me think this man does more harm than good.”

“I wish the others saw that as clearly as you do. I swear nothin’ has gone right since he joined us, but Dutch won’t listen to a single word of it.”

Albert wasn’t sure what to say to that. It didn’t make sense to him to keep a man like that around, but he was clueless as to how politics worked in Arthur’s gang. His musings were interrupted as a raindrop hit his cheek and he looked up to find that the sky had gone dark.

Arthur didn’t seem to be bothered by the sudden heavy rainfall, but he pulled him up as he stood nonetheless. The outlaw gave him a strange look as he was dragged out of the small park and into a nearby covered passageway. The alley, while dry, was narrow with hardly enough space for them to stand side by side. As Albert watched the steady downpour, Arthur noticed that he still hadn’t let go of his hand. He grinned, half certain it was unintentional considering how distracted he was by the rain.

“You know, I’m glad I was able to find you again, Mr. Mason. I was nearly certain you’d have left by now.”

“I’m calling it an extended vacation, I guess, except I’m working two jobs and hating it.” Albert chuckled as his gaze shifted to him. “But there was a part of me that thought you might show again, which makes two weeks of doldrums worth it in my book.” 

Arthur looked him over as his expression softened. “I did miss you while I was gone.”

“And I, you,” He thought over his next words carefully and drew a deep breath. Albert had spent the last few days thinking over the question that was now on the tip of his tongue, and he understood with absolute clarity that if he didn’t ask now, he wouldn’t get another chance. “Arthur, I have to go back to New York next week. Perhaps you could take a vacation of your own and come with me for a week?”

Arthur’s eyes searched his, and for the first time in a while, Albert found that he couldn’t read him. His expression had hardened, more out of thought than anything else as he considered Albert’s proposition. It was beyond tempting. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain if he accepted the offer, and it wasn’t like he was asking him to leave the gang for good, at least not yet.

He scratched his beard as he thought over the logistics. “You said you're leaving in a week?”

Albert nodded.

“Hell, I don’t see why I can’t.” In fact, he thought, if John could leave for almost a year and be welcomed back with open arms, then he could take a mere week to spend time with Albert.

The photographer could hardly believe it. He had told himself not to get his hopes up and that Arthur would have to decline due to his loyalty to his gang. He blinked once and then smiled from ear to ear. “Splendid! Shall we plan to meet at the Saint Denis train station a week from now?”

“Sure, and if something comes up, I’ll send a letter.”

Albert felt his heart skip a beat as the light in Arthur’s eyes returned, his smile reaching them for the first time that day. It was a breathtaking sight, and he felt his cheeks flush as Arthur took a step closer. Albert’s back was now fully pressed against the stucco wall, standing chest to chest with the outlaw as his lips hovered over his own. His breath was hot against his lips in the damp, cool air, eliciting a shiver that ran down his spine. Gently taking hold of his jaw, Arthur closed what little distance was left between them with a tender kiss.

The sound of rain pattering against the brick and stucco drowned out the racket of the nearby factory and stables as the world around them seemed to fade away all at once. All that mattered at that moment was that they were together, their hearts fluttering and tongues brushing against each other. Albert held him there, his hands grasping his face, and had he not needed to breathe he would have stayed that way forever.

Arthur pulled away to catch his breath and rested his forehead against Albert’s. “I’ll be at that station, ain’t nothing gonna stop me from being there.”

“You promise?” He panted with a smile.

“Cross my heart,”

“Good,”

 

 

_The Next Day_

 

Arthur never imagined he’d one day find himself at a party with this caliber of grandeur. Dutch and Hosea were in better moods than he’d seen for the last month or so, and while he joined them in their laughter, part of him wished he was back at camp instead of feeling like a fish out of water in his suit and without his guns.

He adjusted his bowtie as he followed Dutch through the open French doors. The sound of string instruments and chatter of party guests filled the cool, humid night air. Yet despite the cheery atmosphere of the party before them, Arthur couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that hung over him like a dark cloud. Signor Bronte hadn’t necessarily threatened them, but there was something about his air that led Arthur to believe he couldn’t be trusted. His arrogance was insufferable, and every word that came out of his mouth was saturated with conceit. The man practically had the entire city in his pocket, made sure people knew it too, and it had Arthur questioning yet again the idea of civilization.

“Gentlemen, let’s go ingratiate ourselves,” Dutch instructed under his breath as he leaned against the railing. “Go find the mayor if you can, and stay outta trouble. And steal nothing, unless it’s information.” 

“Of course,” Arthur replied as he made his way down the stairs to mingle with the guests. Although, this kind of crowd made him uncomfortable. While he looked the part, he found he could never understand the 'refined' side of American society. From his own experience, it was an enigma that proved to be both edifying and self-destructive to those steeped in wealth. He had met both kind and corrupted individuals in the middle and upper class, and he had no doubt that each person at the party was hiding something behind the pompous façade of seeming put together and polished. Arthur shook his head as he took a glass of champagne.

This was going to be a long night.

He decided to stand by the fountain where it was less crowded and studied the different social circles as he tried to follow their conversations. He was listening to a woman prattle on about modern art and how her daughter could do better when someone bumped into him. He nearly stumbled into the fountain, and the man had started to sputter out an apology as Arthur whirled around to snarl out a warning when he recognized him all at once.

“Albert? What the hell are you doing here?” He asked.

“I could ask you the same thing!” He jovially exclaimed as his eyes looked him over. “It’s quite impressive how nicely you clean up, Mr. Morgan. One might even be so bold as to call you devilishly handsome.”

He felt a heat rise in his cheeks. “Oh I assure you, this weren’t my idea.”

“Now that, dearest Arthur, is clear. You’re as stiff as some of the personalities here!”

Arthur chuckled. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me,” he smiled, “but to answer your question, the mayor invited me on account of my recent success at the gallery. It’s more of a political move than anything, but an artist can’t be too picky about how he gains notoriety. And what about you, Arthur? I highly doubt it’s just a social call that brought you here.”

“We were invited by the guest of honor, but really we’re just trying to find information and leads on some big money. The gang’s trying to get enough of it to get out of here. Dutch keeps mentioning Tahiti, but I don’t know.” He sighed.

Albert’s eyebrows drew together. “Are you going with them?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He nodded to himself. “And what about New York? Are you still planning on going with me?”

Arthur opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find that it was Hosea, and a wave of unease came over him at the twinkle in the gentleman's eyes.

"I'm glad to see you’re enjoying yourself, Arthur! Although, I don't think you've introduced me to your friend here." 

"Hosea, this is my friend Albert Mason. He's a wildlife photographer. Albert, this is Hosea Matthews." Arthur said as he scratched the back of his neck. He couldn't explain why he felt nervous all of a sudden, but he knew Hosea had caught wind of it.

" _Friend_ , eh? It's a pleasure," he grinned as he shook Albert's hand, "I don't get to meet many of this fool's friends."

"For good reason," he muttered, and he quickly regretted the snarky reply as a mischievous look glinted in Hosea's eyes. He was never sure of what was going to roll off the older gentleman’s silver tongue, but he had a good idea that Hosea was going to exploit the rare bashfulness that had come over him.

"Well, Mr. Mason, you must be quite special to him. I didn’t even get to meet his former fiancée, so when I say it’s a pleasure, I genuinely mean it."

For a moment Albert wasn't sure if he had heard him right, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur pale. "I'm sorry, did you say fiancée?"

Hosea's face fell as he exchanged an apologetic look with Arthur who was mortified by now. "I’m sorry, Arthur. I thought you had surely told him about Mary."

“Would you just _shut up_ already?” He groaned. Arthur had no intention of keeping his past love life a secret, but he had wanted Albert to hear it from him, context and all. Not from a man he hardly knew. Arthur was certain his reticence regarding the subject combined with the revelation of a previous engagement had altered the photographer’s opinion of him, and the thought filled him with dismay. Surely, he had ruined another good thing in his life.

Hosea nodded before turning back to Albert. “See to it that he doesn’t get himself into any trouble for me. He’s as stubborn as a mule sometimes.”

“I’m well aware, sir, but Arthur has a good head on his shoulders,” Albert replied, attempting to reinforce and validate what little self-esteem Arthur had.

“Takes a village,” Hosea grinned before his attention shifted to Arthur, “now if you’ll excuse me, I have to see what business Dutch has been getting himself into.”

The two of them stood in a thick silence for a moment, neither of them exactly sure of what to say.

“He’s nice,” Albert mused.

“Yeah, a nice pain in the ass sometimes.” He grunted before downing the rest of the champagne in the glass he was holding.

Albert sighed. “Arthur, I want you to know that what Mr. Matthews said doesn’t change anything.”

“It doesn’t?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, what’s in the past, stays in the past. I’m not going to hold that against you.”

Arthur shook his head as he was flooded with relief. The man had once again shown him undeserved mercy, and he hoped that one day he might have a heart half the size of Albert’s. “You’re too good for me, Al. You know that, right?”

“Now that’s hardly the truth, Mr. Morgan, and you have a nasty habit of selling yourself short.”

“If the shoe fits,”

“Which I can assure you it doesn’t.” Albert tersely insisted as he lifted his chin to look him in the eyes.

"I swear you have a bad habit of overlooking a person's obvious flaws." He huffed. Albert looked him over as if he was inspecting a photograph. 

"The only flaw I see is a crooked bowtie." He mused as he adjusted his bowtie and smoothed his tailcoat. 

Arthur sighed. "I'm serious. For a gentleman like you, there's a whole lot more to lose than gain from hangin' around the likes of me. "

"The nonsense that comes out of that mouth of yours sometimes is preposterous. I have everything I need right here with you. Thus, the only thing to lose or gain is you."

He shook his head as his brow furrowed in frustration. "You ain't listenin’ to me! I'm a hardened man, an _outlaw_ , and I'm afraid that’s gonna change you."

"Please, the only hardness I've seen from you, outside of protecting me, is in bed." He chuckled. "You're much kinder than you think you are. If anything, you inspire me to be a better man." 

Arthur felt his face redden as he stared at the ground, and he wished he had brought a hat to help hide his flushed cheeks. 

Albert smiled at the endearing reaction, and while he wanted to kiss him, he resisted. His eyes flitted to the fountain beside them where he caught sight of the mayor and a few other prominent men he recognized. "Those men over there may have the information you're looking for. The gentleman with the glasses and top hat is Mayor Henri Lemieux."

Arthur looked over his shoulder. "The skeevy lookin' one?"

"That's him."

"Thank you, Al."

"Of course! You should get going, I've distracted you long enough. I'll see you at that train station." He said as he turned Arthur by his shoulders.

He chuckled. "I'll be there with my bags packed."

"I certainly hope so, you gave me your word. Now go before you lose your window of opportunity." Albert replied as he gave him a light shove. He watched Arthur make his way over to the men, and as he forcefully escorted one of them out of the party, he couldn't help but find the sight amusing. 

In six more days, he would have the man to himself and Arthur wouldn't have to worry about his gang's affairs nor be at their beck and call. The thought brought a smile to his face. It would be good for Arthur. Albert never expressed his opinions regarding the gang, but he knew the outlaw had been in that life for so long that he'd become blind to how much control it had over him. It was the only life he knew, and Albert hoped he could give him a taste of freedom while in New York.

Of course, the wait would feel endless. Albert would've left that very day with him if he could, but Arthur had several things that he had to take care of first. He never mentioned what those things were, but Albert hoped six days would give him enough time. 


	2. Wolves of the Old American Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy all! Thank you so much for the lovely comments and kudos on this work so far! As far as the next chapter goes, I'm still working out how I want to end this so there may be more than just three chapters! 
> 
> I also am open to fic requests or suggestions! You can message me through my tumblr (snikt-snack).

Arthur lifted the cup of coffee in his hand to his lips as he watched the river. As he sat on a pile of burlap sacks underneath Shady Belle’s dilapidated gazebo, he soaked in the quiet morning and the coolness of the air before the humidity set in. While savoring the taste of the black coffee, his thoughts wandered to the train he was supposed to take with Albert tomorrow. He’d never been to New York before, but he realized that the location didn’t matter as long as he was with the photographer. It would be a wonderful week of only worrying about Albert instead of Micah or any of the nonsensical plans Dutch had been making as of late. Arthur would finally be able to give him his full attention and shower him with the adoration he deserved.

The thought made him smile. He had appreciated the way Albert doted on him. It was a kind of love he had only seen glimpses of, and it oddly felt like home whenever Arthur was with him. In the past, he had wondered if he would ever find a place to truly call home, but he knew now that it wasn’t a place but a person.

He saw someone approaching him out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Hosea. Arthur gave him a nod as the man sat beside him. “Mornin’, Hosea.”

“Good morning, Arthur.” He greeted. “Fine morning isn’t it?”

“Sure,”

He nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, I didn’t get the chance to say this sooner, but I apologize for what I said in front of your friend, Mr. Mason, and I hope I didn’t cause any turmoil between you two.”

“There’s no hard feelings,” Arthur said with a wave of his hand, “everything’s fine between us.”

The tension in Hosea’s posture melted away, and he exhaled a sigh of relief before clearing his throat. “You know, I remember what it was like to be young and in love. It seems like it was just yesterday Bessie and I were waking up to one another.” He paused as his gray eyes studied him. “If you want out of this life, Arthur, you have my blessing.”

Arthur was convinced he had heard him wrong and a deep crease formed between his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

“Don’t play dumb, you heard me.” Hosea scoffed.

“But what about Dutch?”

“I’ll handle Dutch. Albert isn’t the kind of man who would fall in well with our crew if you catch my meaning. You can’t drag him into this life, but if he truly makes you happy, maybe you can join his.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you to decide, but know that you have my support either way.”

He was speechless as he searched for the words to accurately express the amount of gratitude he felt. To have Hosea’s blessing and approval meant the world to him and it lifted a burden that had been weighing him down for quite some time. “Thank you, Hosea. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Trust me, I have an idea.” He replied with a wink before raising his own coffee mug. “To a smooth and seamless bank robbery, the Van Der Lind way!”

Arthur grinned as he joined him. “And for Lady Luck to be on our side!”

 

Arthur rolled his shoulders as he followed Bill, Micah, Charles, and Dutch into the bank. He glanced once more at the plume of smoke in the air. It wasn't unlike Hosea to create a distraction with such flare, and Arthur only hoped that he and Abigail had made their getaway before the cops of Saint Denis sprung into action.

With their faces covered, Dutch led the way into the bank and barked out bombastic orders. All hell broke loose once they were inside, but they thought nothing of it. They were naturals at controlling the chaos, using their words and weapons to get their way. As they herded people into a room in the back, Arthur saw out of the corner of his eye Micah pistol whip a man who stumbled to the ground. Arthur turned his head and felt the blood drain from his face. The innocent bystander had been Albert, of all people, and he watched in horror as the gentleman wiped away the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Arthur wasted no time in stepping in and it took all his strength to resist punching Micah square in the jaw for the unprovoked assault. "You gather the others, I'll take care of this one."

He was thankful that Micah didn't question him for once as he nodded and helped Bill. Arthur knelt down, his eyes locking with Albert's wide ones that recognized him even with half his face covered. "What the hell are you doing here, Al?" He hissed.

“Well, I _was_ withdrawing money for our trip.” He whispered. “I didn’t realize you and your gang robbed banks of this size.”

“I told you we was worse than the wolves.”

Albert shook his head but chose to ignore the degrading comment. “You know, I’m surprised that even with my rotten luck, I’m still fortunate enough to have a man like you come to my saving every time I’m in trouble.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and gently wiped away the remaining blood from his lip. “This ain’t much of a rescue, in a moment I’ll just be moving you out of the way.”

He didn’t see the difference, but there was no time to argue with him. The other masked men were bound to notice if Arthur lingered too long, and he decided to ask a more pressing question instead. “Are you still planning on accompanying me tomorrow?”

Arthur continued to stare into his hazel eyes as a burning conviction consumed him. After watching Dutch drown Signor Bronte, he was convinced the man was losing his sanity. There was no sense in staying when Dutch was forming and carrying out plans that only dragged them deeper into the mire of trouble they were desperately trying to get out of. His conversation with Hosea replayed in his mind and he finally gave a firm nod.

“I’m going with you to New York, and I’m gonna follow you until I can’t follow you no more.” He finally said.

Albert wasn’t sure if he’d heard him right, but the intensity in his eyes told him otherwise. He found himself overcome with emotion and could only nod in acknowledgment.

Arthur seemed to understand as the corners of his eyes wrinkled from the smile hidden beneath his bandana. “Now, you need to pretend you don’t know me. I’m just a bank robbin’ outlaw to you.”

“Right,” he smiled, “an outlaw worse than the wolves.”

A strong urge to kiss the man came over him, and it took all he could to restrain himself. He couldn’t risk it. Arthur had already spent more time than he should’ve talking to him. Instead, he simply nodded and hauled Albert to his feet before dragging him into the room where the other civilians had been ushered.

The doors closed behind Albert, and while inside, he could hear a man give Arthur orders to have the bank manager open the vault. Albert took a seat on the floor as the people around him nervously whispered to one another. He didn’t pay much attention to the conversation between the three men and Arthur until a raspy voice mentioned that the law had shown up.

Albert felt his blood turn cold. The voices behind the doors became strained and hushed. A few individuals around him gasped as a grandiose voice threatened to shoot them. The voice then ardently implored for a man’s release.

He jumped when a shot rang, and Arthur’s vehement swearing followed closely behind.

There was then the sound of a shootout that was followed by men shouting. Albert was quick to instruct the others to get down to avoid the flying bullets. As he tried his best to manage the chaos in the room, he couldn’t help the panic that flooded him for Arthur’s safety, and the explosion that suddenly shook the building did no favors.

The sounds of the shootout didn’t have an end. They only grew distant as time went on, indicating that Arthur and the others had made their escape. A cop finally opened the doors to free them, and as Albert exited the bank, his eyes fell on the scene of policemen gathered around what he realized was Hosea’s body.

* * *

 Albert checked his pocket watch for the umpteenth time that day. It was five past three in the afternoon, and way past the time he and Arthur had planned to meet. He fiddled with the watch’s chain before finally putting it away as his thoughts lingered on the outlaw.

For Arthur to choose not to show up was unthinkable. The man had given him his word, had told him with such a heartfelt assurance that he would be there. His promise, therefore, couldn’t be a lie. It didn’t make sense. Yet, here he was still waiting for the faintest sign of Arthur. Albert had even checked the post office to see if a letter had been sent to him by Arthur and had miraculously been delivered the same day only to find nothing.

Of course, that led him to the next train of thought. Something had happened to the outlaw after the bank heist, and Albert fiercely hoped that he was still alive.

He fidgeted with his hands, finding each minute excruciatingly slow. If he had been into the habit of smoking, he would’ve smoked his way through a few packs of cigarettes by now.

The sound of a train approaching the station reached his ears, and he sighed. It was the fourth one to arrive that day, and it was a bitter reminder of Arthur’s disappearance. The locomotive slowed to a stop, and he watched as the passengers exited the train cars. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a man leave the post office with a newspaper in his hands. When Albert saw that it was the Saint Denis Times Tribune, he jumped to his feet and strode over to the man.

“Excuse me, sir, may I have a look at your paper?” Albert asked him.

“Here,” the stranger said as he handed him the newspaper, “keep it. I don’t need it anymore.”

“You are a kind gentleman, thank you.” He replied as he skimmed the headlines. It wasn’t difficult to find the one he was searching for as it was plastered on the front page. He scoured the article for something that would give any inclination to Arthur’s whereabouts or what had happened to him. His eyes finally found what he had been looking for, and he slowly took a seat as he processed what he had just read.

Most of the individuals who had robbed the bank were still at large, one had been arrested and two killed. Neither one had been named. Albert stared at the printed words, not knowing where to even start with what to think. It felt, or at least he assumed it felt, like a round of buckshot to his chest. He set the paper aside and tried to regain control of his breathing to ease the tightness in his chest.

He knew that one of the fallen men had been Hosea. Albert had lost sleep staring at the ceiling thinking about the man. He had wanted to get to know him more, the kind soul with a quick wit and wise look in his eye, and he couldn’t imagine the toll his death had taken on Arthur, wherever he was.

He was unsure who the other two unidentified men mentioned were. If Arthur hadn’t met him at the train station, then did that mean he was either arrested or worse?

Albert didn’t even want to begin to consider the latter.

He did know one thing for sure, and that was if he chose to stay in Saint Denis for a few more days, he would lose the motivation to leave. Even if Arthur was alive, he had to come to grips with the fact that the odds were low of ever seeing him again. If he was a wanted man before, he was absolutely one now, and Arthur was too kind of a man to bring that into Albert’s life.

He ran a hand through his hair as his eyes flicked up to the train. He felt numb as he watched the smoke stack from the engine climb into the air, his feet weighing like two blocks of cement. He didn't want to leave without Arthur. There had been so much he had been looking forward to doing with the man, had looked forward to having him all to himself. Yet now those hopes were dashed, and with a heavy heart and deep sigh, he rose to his feet and forced himself to board the train.  


	3. Better Late Than Never

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost gave up on this chapter but thankfully a cup of coffee and a nice early spring day pulled me through! I'm thinking there are two more chapters left of this and I've got a separate series/AU idea in the works. Also, there's a conversation in this chapter that mentions a situation in part two of this series.
> 
> If you have a fic request, let me know! Feel free to comment or send a message if you have one. I go by snikt-snack on tumblr if you want to message me there. :) 
> 
> Thank you again for taking the time to read my fics!

Arthur gazed up at the imposing art gallery before him. He'd been in several cities before, but New York City was a breed of its own. The architecture was impressive, something that the city clearly took pride in. It was difficult to imagine Albert growing up around all this. The gentleman was different from most city folk he had encountered, but then again he had no right to judge. In the past, he had only lingered around city folk who were obviously worth stealing from. To say most of them were pompous fools would be an undeserving label for some.

He cleared his throat, which turned into a series of coughs, and checked his journal once again to verify he was at the correct art gallery. The gentleman at the Saint Denis gallery had informed him that they had sent Albert's photographs to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. After taking care of the Murfree brood with Charles, Arthur knew he had to do his best to fulfill his promise to Albert. Asking the city’s gallery about him was his best bet at finding him.

He drew a deep breath and entered the building. Arthur stopped in his tracks as he took in the grandiose foyer. It was much larger than he expected it to be. Not even the Mayor's house in Saint Denis compared to it. He tore his eyes away from the grand arches and ventured over to a woman at a desk.

"Excuse me, miss, but I heard you were showing Mr. Mason's photographs?"

"That's correct," she replied before looking up from her notes. Her face seemed to light up as her eyes scanned him. "Say, are you the Mr. Morgan from the photograph?" 

"He's still hanging that one?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"Of course! His whole series is dedicated to you, you know."

Arthur was shocked. He had been certain Albert was angry with him for missing the train bound for New York City. He scratched the back of his neck. "Do you know where he might be?"

She shook her head. "Not really, although I do know he's working for the local paper now. Their building is a little ways down the street."

He thanked her and set off on his way. 

Arthur soon reached the paper company's building and he noticed how similar it was to the one in Saint Denis. There was a marquee sign above an engraved one, and it was shorter than the neighboring buildings, but not by much. He scratched the back of his neck as he felt his heart race. It had been over two weeks since he last saw Albert. A whole two weeks with no explanation for his disappearance and no communication. Arthur wasn't sure if Albert even cared about him anymore. He wouldn't blame him if he had moved on to someone better by now.

He almost walked away at the thought, but he pulled himself together and ventured inside. He had traveled too far to give up now and even if the thought was true Arthur could at least say hello. A man at his desk peered over his glasses as he gave him a once over look. Arthur got the idea from the simple gesture that he stood out like a sore thumb, yet he ignored the man’s curious look and made his way over to him.

“Pardon me, but I’m looking for Albert Mason. Is he here?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah he’s here, his office is the last room on the right down the hall.”

“Thank you,” he replied before following the man’s instructions. When he reached the door, he drew a shaky breath before knocking three times. He heard Albert on the other side tell him to come in and he hesitated before complying.

Arthur closed the door behind him without saying a word. As his eyes examined Albert, he felt overwhelmed by guilt. The photographer looked sad and nearly hollow as he sat hunched over his desk analyzing photos that Arthur didn’t recognize. His eyes were uncharacteristically listless, and he could tell by his drooping shoulders and poor posture that he hadn’t been getting sleep.

He cleared his throat, unable to say anything and his throat tight with emotion.

Albert turned and almost fell out of his chair, his tired eyes flying wide as his face paled. It was as if he had seen a ghost, his mouth parted in surprise as his eyes looked him over several times. Albert stayed frozen as he was, convinced that the man before him was merely a figment of his imagination. He then shook his head and rose to his feet.

“Arthur? Is that really you?”

He nodded. “Al, I’m sorry I—”

Albert interrupted him with a hug that nearly knocked him over; his arms wrapped so tightly around him one would’ve thought he was clinging for dear life.

“I thought you were dead.” His voice was so soft it was hardly a whisper.

As he wrapped his arms around him, he felt Albert’s breath hitch at those very words and his own heart ached from seeing the gentleman so distraught. Holding him in his arms, he could almost feel how heavy his absence had weighed on Albert.

“I had a promise to keep.” Arthur finally replied before pulling away and cradling his face in his hands.

Albert studied Arthur with concern. His eyes were red and surrounded by dark circles, appearing more worn than usual. He looked drained in just about every sense of the word, and he wondered what had happened to Arthur while he was gone. Albert gestured to an empty chair beside his desk, and they both took a seat.

“Tell me, what happened after you escaped the bank, Arthur?” He asked as he pulled his own chair closer.

“We became stowaways on a ship that got caught in a storm. Somehow, we all survived and washed up on Guarma before more shit happened.” Arthur sighed. “The Pinkertons sniffed us out the minute we got back, and I swear our luck has turned. I don’t think it’s turning back, but Dutch insists we only need more money.”

Albert’s brow furrowed in thought, and he was silent for a while before he spoke again. “I’m very sorry about Hosea and the other man who was killed. Hosea seemed like a good man.”

“He was a damn good man, Lenny too. I appreciate the sentiment.” Arthur replied as he massaged the bridge of his nose. He sighed, which turned into a fit of coughing. As he recovered, Albert couldn’t help but notice that his cough was no longer the little nuisance Arthur had tried to convince him it was, and it stirred a sickening feeling in his gut. He studied him closely as he bit his lip, caught between unearthing that conversation once more and saying nothing. Albert decided to let it go for the time being. It could wait.

Instead, he took hold of Arthur’s hand. “I don’t know how you found me, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thankfully you’ve got a small following now, so it didn’t take much digging to find you.” He replied before lifting his gaze to catch Albert wiping away a few tears with the back of his hand. Arthur gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, I just…well, I was convinced I’d never see you again. Yet here you are, troubling yourself to come all this way just to see me.”

Arthur felt his heart twist in his chest as he wiped away the remaining tears with his calloused thumb. “It ain’t a trouble, _you’re_ no trouble. There’s only so much good left in my life after all that’s happened these last few months, and I intend to treasure those things, especially you.”

Albert nodded as he sniffled, his familiar warm smile gracing his lips once again. “Well, how about we treasure one another by doing a little sightseeing, hm? If I remember correctly, this is your first time in New York.”

 

The sun had started its descent by now, casting its golden light on the ships in the distance and the lush trees around them. At this hour, there were only a handful of both sightseers and city folk at Battery Park enjoying the view of the sunset over the water.

Arthur lowered his binoculars, his mind still trying to grasp the impressive size of the Statue of Liberty that glinted in the warm light out on the horizon. “You said it took _nine_ years to build that thing?”

“Yes, if I remember correctly,” Albert replied, his gaze lingering on the rolling waves rather than the bronze statue. With growing up near the grand landmark, he found the bay and the golden clouds framed by blue sky more remarkable.

 “What’s it supposed to mean again?” He asked as he tucked his binoculars away in his satchel.

“It depends on who you ask, but most would say Lady Liberty represents freedom from oppression.”

“Freedom my ass,” he scoffed. “Feels like I’ve been fighting for freedom my whole life.”

“Forgive me for being so bold, but taking part in ambitious bank heists and breaking laws tends to restrict one’s freedom.” He mused with a grin.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. I’ve always felt trapped, even _before_ joining Dutch.”

Albert leaned against the rail and studied him. His understanding of the feeling Arthur described was limited at best. If anything, he had caught a mere glimpse of it from a different perspective. Albert had grown up in a decent home with a roof over his head and food on the table, but in a way, he understood the sense of feeling constrained. However, regardless of the differences in their lifestyles, he realized that the feeling came from society, or at least the influence Albert had allowed it to have in his life. Arthur’s story, on the other hand, wasn’t so black and white, nor as simple as his, and he knew there were many things out of Arthur’s control that had happened in his life.

A gust of wind off the bay whipped around them unexpectedly. Arthur managed to clap a hand atop his head just in time, holding his hat securely in place. Albert, however, was not as successful. A yelp escaped the gentleman as his hat was carried away by the wind and Arthur laughed as he chased down the hat. He managed to retrieve it as the wind died down and as he returned to Albert, he found himself stopping in his tracks. He was captivated and suddenly dumbstruck by how attractive the man was. Not that there had been any previous doubts regarding his handsomeness. Arthur knew every contour of his face and muscles by heart. But there was something about the way the breeze played with his tousled dark waves and his figure silhouetted by the setting sun that captivated Arthur.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there taking in the view, but it was long enough to make Albert shift his weight and scratch the back of his neck nervously.   

“Is everything alright, Arthur?” He asked tentatively.

He blinked, snapping out of his daze before returning to Albert’s side. “Sure, it’s just,” he felt his heart flutter as he searched for the right words, “you’re absolutely stunning, Al.”

“Mr. Morgan, p-please,” Albert stammered as his face flushed, “it’s quite unbecoming when you lie.”

Arthur shook his head as a deep crease formed between his brows, offended by the false accusation. “I ain’t lyin’! Now I ain’t the best with my words, but you best believe me when I tell you that you’re the most handsome man I know.”

Albert opened his mouth to protest but found himself at a loss for words as a warmth spread through his chest. Instead of scrounging up a half-hearted reply, he simply closed his mouth again. His acquiescence earned an approving nod from Arthur who smoothed his soft hair. Arthur then pressed his lips to his temple, leaving a trail of gentle kisses on his cheek, nose, and finally his lips.

Albert, aware of the fact they were still out in public, parted from him sooner than he'd like. While Arthur had wanted the kiss to last longer, the smile that pulled at the corner of the gentleman’s mouth and lit his eyes was enough. Arthur felt his own lips curve in a smile he hadn't worn for a while as he placed Albert's hat back on his head.

"It's too tempting to savor your kisses, Arthur. That was an unfair tease." Albert said.

"Now you know what it's like." He jested, his smile twisting into a smirk.

"Please, teasing you was the only way I was ever going to hear you say those things about yourself and hope you might actually believe them."

Arthur chuckled as he stood beside him as they both leaned against the rail with their backs to the bay. He then let his fingers toy with the hair on the nape of Albert's neck before trailing his fingers down his back, earning a shiver from the gentleman. "Maybe I've started to doubt them again and need some reminding."

While his tone was light and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes, Albert knew it was true. He studied him with a scrutinizing stare, wondering what had robbed the outlaw of the truth of those words he had gotten him to say.

Arthur's smile dropped as he felt Albert's eyes search him. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he wondered if he'd said something that had offended him. He wouldn't put it past him to ruin the moment, and he returned his hand to his side as he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I—”

Albert cut him off with a brief kiss before turning his face to look into his eyes. "No, you're right. You do need a reminder, and I would be more than happy to help. But here is not the place.”

“That’s fair,” he grinned, relief quickly replacing the worry he had felt a second ago.

Albert laughed and motioned for the outlaw to follow him. Arthur found himself entranced by the man as they walked through the city. With the soft glow of the streetlamps and Albert’s soft-spoken voice carrying on about anything and everything, it felt like a dream. Arthur reached for his hand, and his heart felt full as their fingers intertwined. The warmth of Albert’s hand was comforting, proving to him that this was, in fact, reality. A reality that Arthur had no qualms making permeant.


	4. Torn

Arthur watched the slow rise and fall of Albert’s back. The soft, golden light of dawn made his skin glow, highlighting the gentle curve of his back muscles and revealing the warmer brown tones of his hair that reminded him of the mahogany stock of his rifle. He traced the soft expanse of his back with his hand. His fingers followed the indentation of his spine up to his shoulders where he drew light, undefined shapes.

The love he felt for Albert made him feel younger than he was. He was so full of adoration for the man, and oftentimes it felt as if that love had nowhere to go but to spill over. The blossoming warmth that had begun several months ago had fully bloomed, warming him from his head to his toes. Arthur had very nearly brushed the feeling off as infatuation or lust, but it felt too earnest and too rooted in his core to be something so superficial.

He knew without a doubt that he longed for this to last; the feeling that filled him with butterflies and eased the tension from his shoulders, and the sight of Albert lost in a peaceful sleep beside him was the closest thing he’d felt to paradise. It was more than he ever imagined wanting, and more than he thought he deserved. Arthur’s past was a ledger of red, full of mistakes and sins that amounted to a debt that would require more than a lifetime to wipe away. And yet Albert had still chosen to stay by his side despite it all. It left Arthur’s mind spinning with questions and doubts, both of which the gentleman was more than willing to quiet with his affections and gentle words.

Arthur sighed as his hand wandered to his lower back where he traced lazy circles. Earlier that morning, he had come to the unfortunate conclusion that he would have to go back to the gang. The thought weighed him down as it persistently wormed its way to the forefront of his mind regardless of how hard he had tried to ignore it. There was a sense that something malicious was at work, the rumors of a rat amongst them being more than plausible. Hosea’s passing only fueled the dread that filled the pit of his stomach. Hosea was the only one with the gall to correct Dutch, calling out foolish plans when he saw them and providing wisdom and reason in their stead. With him gone, Arthur was the only one left who was willing to attempt talking sense into Dutch.

A familiar, crippling sadness seized him. Here he had all he ever wanted, his wildest dreams finally realized. In his arms was a man he loved dearly, and for the first time, he had felt free from the life of an outlaw. Or so he had thought. Even away from the gang, he couldn’t shake the nagging sense of duty he had to it. It wasn’t quite like the loyalty he had sworn all those years ago, fueled by the naivety and desperation of his youth, but there was a sense of loyalty nonetheless. As his mind swam with thoughts of the gang, he began to understand more clearly that he was loyal to the family he’d left behind more than anything else. It was John, Abigail, and Jack he cared about, Charles and Swanson. Miss Grimshaw, who had always kept them decently civilized. The girls who always seemed to bring joy to the camp and Mr. Pearson who kept them well-fed. Sadie’s grit, and sheer determination that was nothing short of inspiring. Even Uncle, who drove him up the wall with his excuses and drunkenness. Arthur cared for them all, and he knew he had a vital role to play in keeping them safe from harm.

Arthur closed his eyes, trying his best to reign in the anger he felt towards Micah. The bloody unraveling of their once close-knit family could all be traced back to him. While Arthur had no grounds for his claims, he knew that the gang's misfortune in Blackwater, Rhodes, and Saint Denis was all linked to Micah somehow. He didn’t trust Micah one inch, and he would sooner lay his neck over train tracks than assume the man meant well.

He felt Albert shift underneath his arm and the soft touch of his hand to his cheek. Arthur looked at him through half-lidded eyes and smiled. His dark locks were still messy from their night together, and Arthur reached out to smooth them with his fingers.

“Mornin’,” he hummed.

“Good morning,” Albert replied. “Did you sleep well?”

“About as well as usual.”

His brow furrowed as he studied him. Albert’s scrutinizing gaze was disarming, holding nothing but concern and love for him. “What’s troubling you, Arthur? You seemed fine last night, but you look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Arthur sighed and wrapped his arm around his waist to pull him closer. “You read me too damn well, you know that, right?”

A grin graced his lips as he planted a soft kiss on his forehead. “Only because I love you.”

Arthur felt his heart leap and twist in his chest at those words. It was a bittersweet revelation, and for a moment he wished he had heard him wrong. The outlaw would have to leave him soon, if not today, for an indefinite amount of time. He swallowed as he searched for the right words to say, feeling like a noose had been cinched around his neck. Arthur didn’t want to give this up. He didn’t want to let go of what he had finally gained with Albert.

But what choice did he have?

Albert wrapped his arms around him in his silence and caressed his back encouragingly, understanding, despite the lack of words, the turmoil that raged within him.

“I…” he paused as his voice faltered, “I can’t stay with you, at least not yet. The gang ain’t well, Al. I’m afraid our luck’s run out and there’s some good people countin’ on me.”

“I was afraid you might say that.” He sighed. “But I understand, Arthur. As much as I would love to keep you hostage here, those people relying on you need you more right now than I do.”

A swell of emotions washed over Arthur. He wasn’t sure what he had done to earn the man’s undeserved and unwavering devotion, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. “I’m so sorry, I should have never come here in the first place.”

“Don’t you dare utter those words!” Albert replied sternly. “To find out you weren’t dead was a godsend. Not knowing what had happened to you nearly drove me insane.”

Arthur started to apologize again, and Albert simply rolled his eyes before interrupting him with a tender kiss. The outlaw was quick to recover from his mild surprise. Kissing the gentleman had almost become second nature for him, and he was more than willing to reciprocate.

Albert parted from him and held his face in his hands, a smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If I hear one more apology out of you for something that’s already been forgiven, I’m throwing you into the harbor.”

He chuckled and pressed his lips to Albert’s throat, feeling the gentleman shiver from the soft touch and the tickle of his beard. “I’d like to see you try, Mr. Mason.”

“Okay, maybe I would ask a bystander for some help lifting you,” he laughed, “but do know that I am serious about your apologies. Life doesn’t always go the way we plan it, but I want to support you. If you need to go back because some dear people are in danger, then don’t let me stand in your way. But don’t get me wrong, would I love for you to stay here in my arms? Most definitely, but all that can wait. We have time.”

Arthur nodded, bringing his head out of the crook of Albert’s neck to look into his sincere eyes. He was once again rendered speechless by his kindness. Albert continuously inspired him to be a better man, to have more kindness and patience in his own heart.

“I don’t know how long it’ll take me.”

“I know, but as I said, we have time,” Albert said before his smile fell, noticing the redness in Arthur’s eyes was still there. The exhaustion that was also lurking there unsettled him. He knew the outlaw had been through hell and back the last few weeks, but Albert couldn’t shake the fear that had snaked its way into his mind. “Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself, okay?”

“Sure, I will.”

With lingering touches and kisses, they took their time getting ready that morning, wanting to savor their last moments together before Arthur left. Albert had accompanied him to the train station, and as he watched the man board, he felt his heartache. The outlaw saluted him in that way that always made Albert smile, a habit of his that he found charming. He waved back, and after the man stepped into the train car, he sighed.

While Albert had encouraged him to go, deep within his heart, he longed for Arthur to stay. He never said it, but he had selfishly wanted him not to go, hating the uncertainty that Arthur’s absence always had. But as much as Albert wanted to keep him all for himself, he loved the outlaw’s selflessness. It was no secret Arthur had shared his wish of staying. Albert could read it clearly in his eyes. Yet, Arthur had still chosen to go back to care for his gang. Even though he wanted to stay with Albert, it was clear that the needs of the people depending on him outweighed his own desires.

Another sigh left Albert as he watched the train leave and he felt a sense of dread prick the back of his neck. He didn’t understand why the feeling had gripped him, and he tried to shrug it off as he walked away from the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter is a little choppy! Work was grueling this week so I didn't have as much time or energy to put into my work like I usually do. Thank you for reading anyway and for your lovely comments! They truly warm my heart <3


	5. The Time That We Have Left

Arthur sat on a bench outside the post office and stared at the wood planks beneath his feet. The incessant noise of the railroad and mine filled the town of Annesburg, making the call of the gulls that glided on the wind barely audible. He sighed and immediately regretted the action as he found himself in a mild coughing fit that left him lightheaded and more in pain. Each breath felt like he was setting fire to his lungs, and with dismay, he realized this was how his story was going to end. While his talk with sister Calderón had helped him come to terms with his fear, he still dreaded dying, and the more Arthur thought about it, the more he knew the dread he felt came from all that he still needed to do. He was running out of time, and Arthur could feel the disease eating him away with an insatiable hunger, depleting his strength to the point where it was a struggle to even rise from the bench he sat on.

While Arthur was caught up in his own deep thoughts, he didn't think twice about the man who had paused in front of him. He was used to receiving stares, but the man continued to stay rooted to the spot, and he wearily lifted his gaze to tell him off.

Except his face fell before he could make a sound, the snarky words on his tongue melting away and dissolving into a heavy silence.

It was Albert, standing with his photography equipment in hand and seeming just as surprised. They both stared at the other, at a loss for words before Albert finally shook himself from his daze.

"Arthur?" He tentatively asked, clearly hoping what he saw before him wasn't true.

"Hey, Al,"

The greeting physically pained him, his face grimacing briefly before he took a seat beside him. "Arthur, my God, what's happened to you?"

"You were right about that cough." He mused with a weak smile. "Doctor said it's tuberculosis."

Albert wordlessly looked him over. The man was a mere shadow of who he used to be, his once bright eyes sunken and framed by dark circles, and each wheezing breath he took only reinforced the reality of what he saw. "Is...is there anything that can be done?"

He shook his head. "Nothin' but wait for the end,"

Albert swallowed. He had feared that would be the answer. In the back of his mind, he had always wondered if he would somehow stumble upon the discovery of Arthur's death. He hadn’t heard anything from him after he’d left New York, and his worst fears had used it to their advantage to toy with him. It was a relief to see him alive, but the state Albert had found him in was a grievous thing to process. Here was a man who had rescued him too many times to count, and now Arthur looked as if a gentle breeze could blow him over.

The abrupt soar and dip in his emotions was like a kick from a horse, and he wasn't sure his heart could handle it. With a shaky hand, he reached for Arthur's and gently grasped it.

The outlaw gave it a light squeeze. "I wish things had worked out differently for us."

"Agreed," he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Arthur was silent for a while as he fought to regain control of the sorrow that threatened to tip him into a downward spiral. "Al, I'm sorry I never said it sooner, but I love you. Always have,"

Albert's eyes flicked up to meet his, noticing how bloodshot and grief-stricken they were. He felt his throat tighten and his eyes water, unsure of how he had been so fortunate to have crossed paths with a man who had such a genuine and loving heart. He had wanted more of this, more of the love that they shared and the adventures he had hoped to have. Albert had even dreamed about what it would be like to whisk Arthur away and start a new life with him. His heart ached, knowing this was their goodbye, but he was thankful for their fortuitous encounter nonetheless.

"You did say it, just not with words. Even a conceited idiot can manage to string those three words together in a sentence, but not everyone can follow them with actions. You, my dearest Arthur, have managed to do the opposite."

He let out a deep chuckle which devolved into a series of coughs. Arthur turned his head away as his lungs spasmed before facing him once more when the coughing fit had finally subsided. "What brings you into this dreary town?"

Albert studied him with concern before answering the question. "Well, with my last work being so successful, I've decided to raise awareness of the horrible working conditions that still exist in the dawn of the twentieth century. I've already photographed the horrors of the assembly line in New York and now I'm down here to document the mines."

"That's brilliant, Al. You're gonna end up saving a lot of lives."

"That's the hope, I just wish I could save yours too."

Arthur shook his head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but this is how it's got to be." 

Albert held his tongue from speaking his selfish thoughts. He disagreed with Arthur, and he couldn’t comprehend why a man like him had to die a slow and painful death. Tuberculosis could even be cured if treated right and the thought made him wonder how he’d deteriorated so quickly. Arthur had dropped a lot of weight and looked utterly exhausted, and he couldn’t help but ask himself if anyone had noticed in his gang. And if so, why wasn’t Arthur being looked after?

His thoughts then took a darker turn, blaming himself for not insisting that Arthur stay with him. He had seen the warning signs, had been aware of them weeks ago, and he couldn’t help but think he could’ve helped the man by nursing him back to health instead of letting him go against his better judgment. A squeeze of his hand pulled him out of the mire of his thoughts and Albert looked up at him, unsure of when he had looked away.

“This ain’t your fault, ain’t no one’s fault but mine.” Arthur insisted, somehow reading his mind.

“You should at least be resting. Maybe looking after you for a few months will—”

“Al, I don’t have that kind of time. I have a week at most left.” He said gently. “There’s some things I have to take care of, and even if I had the time, I’m too far gone to be helped.”

Albert lifted a hand to caress his cheek. Arthur held his hand there and turned his face to press his lips against the back of it.

“And you’re absolutely certain there’s nothing that can be done?” Albert asked.

“Well, you could turn me in to the Pinkertons and get at least five thousand dollars for my head. Consider it as payment for the trouble I’ve caused you.” He weakly chuckled.

“Arthur Morgan!” He chastised fiercely.

“Calm down, I’m only joking.”

Albert simply shook his head before pulling out his pocket watch to look at the time. “It’s late, you should be getting some rest.”

“I ain’t got no time to rest.” He grunted as he waved him off.

“Like hell you don’t!”

Arthur’s eyes snapped up to meet Albert’s. The mild swear coming from the well-mannered gentleman startled him. His mouth had become set in a firm line, and his hazel eyes held enough determination to make him fear what Albert’s wrath was like.

“There are a few small rooms available for rent beside the gunsmith’s who’s just down the street. Let me take care of you tonight. Please,”

Arthur sighed, but complied by gathering the strength to rise to his feet. There was no sense in arguing, and he was unsure if he even had the energy to ride back to camp. Albert helped him up, and they made their way down to the gunsmith.

Before Albert had gone inside to pay, Arthur had tried to convince him to take his money. The photographer, of course, had declined the generous offer, reasoning that the room was cheap and that Arthur needed it more.

Albert knew the makeshift hotel would be nothing like those in Strawberry or Saint Denis, but the state of the small room was anything but pleasant. The bed hadn’t even been made, and the brick of the building’s structure had started to show through sections of the thin walls. He paused at the doorway, contemplating taking Arthur on a train to Saint Denis so he could rest somewhere more sanitary and hospitable. Arthur, on the other hand, was too dead on his feet to care. It was, at the very least, warm and provided a roof over his head, all things that had been scarce for him as of late.

A train coming through town caused the room to tremor as Arthur laid down on the discolored sheets. “I understand if you don’t want to stay Al, but you’re more than welcome to.”

Albert shook his head as he closed the door behind him. “Nonsense, the room could use a thorough cleaning, but as long as I can help it, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I must be rubbing off on you,” he said as he made himself comfortable.

“How so?” Albert asked as he took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“That’s a stupid decision,”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re utterly incorrigible sometimes!”

Arthur chuckled to himself before watching him spread his jacket over the hotel’s pillow. “I’m serious, you don’t have to stay.”

“Nonsense,” he replied as he placed a peck on his forehead, “now get some rest. You look like you haven’t seen the back of your eyelids for a few days.”

Arthur studied him. A part of him still believed this was a dream. He had spent the last few days trying to write Albert a letter explaining everything, but each time he tried he couldn’t seem to find the right words. And now here he was, looking after him like he always did. Being able to see him once more was too good to be true, yet the feel of Albert’s hand gently smoothing his hair proved otherwise.

The outlaw finally nodded, agreeing to get the rest his body had been aching for as he closed his eyes. Albert watched as he quickly slipped into a deep sleep, his chest slowly rising and falling as his muscles relaxed. He seemed so peaceful, and it pulled at Albert’s heart knowing that he didn’t feel the same peace in his waking moments. He continued to smooth the tangles in Arthur’s hair for a while as he slept before settling himself with his back pressed against Arthur’s.

Albert’s sleep came in spurts, and it wasn’t until the golden hour of the sunrise that he finally rose to find Arthur already awake and scribbling something in his journal. He sat up and curiously watched him with a furrowed brow.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder before giving him a gentle shove. “Don’t peek just yet, it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Albert smiled to himself as he looked away. From the looks of it, Arthur seemed to be feeling better. While the dark circles and redness were still there, a light had returned to his eyes. It was dim, but it was a light nonetheless. As Albert stared out the window, he felt Arthur lean his back against his own. His smile widened at the touch, and he closed his eyes as he listened to Arthur hum the familiar tune of Rye Whiskey. It was a beautiful yet simple thing, the feel of Arthur’s deep, gravelly voice vibrating in his chest as the rain pattered against the building. Albert wished he could live and cherish the moment forever.

When Arthur had finished, he turned and handed him a page that had been torn out from his journal. Albert blinked as he held it in his hand. It was a painstakingly detailed drawing of him. The skill behind the portrait was breathtaking, and it was a while before Albert’s eyes lifted to meet Arthur’s.

 “I…is this for me?” He finally asked.

“No, it’s for the gunsmith. Yes, of course it’s for you!” Arthur scoffed lightly.

Albert chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to say, Arthur. This is amazing!”

“I’ve been working on it for a while now. Thought I lost it between Guarma and moving camps. That print of the wolves really meant a lot to me, and I wanted to do something like that for you.”

“I love it, Arthur. Thank you,” He said as he pressed his lips to his cheek.

The outlaw smiled before dipping his head into the crook of his neck where he planted a kiss. “It’s my pleasure,”

A light shiver ran down his spine before he turned to face him better. “Are you sure you can’t stay with me for at least a month? Maybe it would help.”

Arthur heaved a sigh, and he ducked his head away as he coughed. “I already told you I can’t, Al. I’m all some folks got now.”

“I know, I suppose I was selfishly hoping for a different answer.”

“Trust me, as soon as this is over I’ll either write you or show up on your doorstep.” He said as he rested his forehead against Albert’s.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support with the last chapter! It's been another crazy week and I'm now fighting my own cold, but here's a more or less timely update nonetheless! Thank you once again for taking the time to read my work and for leaving a kudos! 
> 
> Much love to all of you <3


	6. Exhumed

Charles watched Arthur intently, grateful that his breathing had finally returned to its natural rhythm after three months of looking after him. He rested the back of his hand against Arthur’s forehead and was pleased to find that his fever had finally dissipated for good. It was a miracle that he had improved as much as he did, let alone the fact that he was alive. Charles had assumed he was gone when he had first found him on the ridge, lying there left for dead and a bloody mess, bruised and beaten to a pulp. He’d prepared himself to give the man a burial, and yet somehow, he had pulled through.

Charles had gotten the full story from him when he was able to piece words together into coherent sentences once again. How he had told John to run while he held the others off and that Dutch had left him to die. But even when he had found him on that ridge, Charles had known that John wouldn’t have left him without Arthur insisting that he do so. That was the kind of man Arthur was, recklessly selfless, sometimes in the most idiotic ways.

When he had brought Arthur back to an abandoned house between the Roanoke Valley and Roanoke Ridge, he had been on the brink of death. There were moments when he had thought he’d lost him, his breathing so shallow and faint, struggling for air like a fish out of water. It hadn’t been an easy battle, and as Charles helped him fight for his life, he couldn’t help but recall the time Arthur had returned to camp after escaping the O’Driscolls. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he, Hosea, and Miss Grimshaw had helped nurse Arthur back to health. So much had happened since then, and he was the only one still alive who could help him.

His thoughts wandered as he eyed the new scar above his brow before inspecting the other across the bridge of his nose. Arthur couldn’t care less about the scars he wore, but Charles had noticed the way he had disdainfully examined them one day in a mirror when he’d felt well enough to walk some. He could only assume it was from his fight with Micah, and he knew the marks only resurfaced dark memories for him.

Arthur finally stirred from his sleep, disrupting Charle's thoughts as his attention refocussed on the man. With a groan, he reached out blindly as if looking for something.

“I’m still here,” Charles said as he took hold of his searching hand before grinning, “you can’t get away with doing things instead of resting this time.”

“That was _one_ time! And I was feeling better.” He grumbled.

“You have to be patient and give your body time to _fully_ heal. Hosea taught me many things, but I’m not sure if I can bring you back again if you relapse.”

“I know,” Arthur sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “I miss him.”

“I do too.”

“I was looking forward to seeing them all again.”

“And you will, just not now,” Charles replied gently. He was oddly grateful that Arthur felt free to talk so candidly with him. There hadn’t been many individuals in their gang who knew how to respond to Arthur’s bouts of melancholy, and Charles was glad to have such a deep trust between them. “You know, Hosea was furious when he found out the O’Driscolls had taken you.”

His brow furrowed as he stared at him. “Really?”

“It was the angriest I’d ever seen him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dutch go so quiet or Micah with his tail so far up between his legs.”

Arthur chuckled at that. “What I would pay to have seen that.”

“I’m sure those two will get what’s coming to them.”

“Revenge is a fool’s game,” Arthur muttered with a wave of his hand, “all that matters is that John and his family made it.”

Charles nodded. “Agreed, although I haven’t heard a word from John since Roanoke. It’s like he left and never looked back.”

Arthur felt the tension ease from his shoulders, relieved that John had listened to him for once. “Good, it’s about damn time he did as he was told.”

He chuckled as he rose to his feet. “He always did listen when it mattered. Well, most of the time anyway.”

“A dumbass through and through,” he grinned, “say, when you head into town can you keep an eye out for a journal? I gave John all my things thinkin’ I wouldn’t need them again.”

“Sure thing,”

 

It took another three months for Arthur to be able to walk around the house without having to stop to catch his breath and yet another before he could go on short walks with Charles on some worn trails nearby. His healing process had been grueling, but Charles was quick to remind him of how far he’d come whenever he felt discouraged.

“Most people don’t bounce back from TB, and that’s _without_ having a fist fight after climbing a mountain.” He had said. “Be patient with yourself.”

“I dunno,” Arthur sighed, “they say those who are lucky enough to survive ain’t ever the same.”

“I’m sure they’d change their minds after seeing how far you’ve come.”

He shook his head. “You could be doing so much more with your time.”

“I’m spending my time on what matters,” Charles replied firmly, “and besides, it’s up to me what I do or don’t do. You just worry about yourself until you’re well enough to walk five miles without getting winded.”

It was about a week after that conversation when the two of them had decided to try riding the trails on horseback. Arthur had been able to lift himself into the saddle, but he couldn’t help but notice how the familiar motion took more effort than usual. He frowned, trying to even his breathing as he straightened himself. Between the weeks spent in bed and doing hardly any work, he’d lost the strength he used to take pride in. Sure, he’d built it up over time being the gang’s workhorse and muscle, but it was nice to be able to protect and help others.

To be useful.

Now, he felt like a child who had to be looked after day and night. It was humiliating at first, but the way Charles had handled the situation with such grace and compassion helped him subdue the feeling. Having to be cared for was more of an inconvenience now than anything, for both him and Charles.

Charles must’ve noticed because he watched Arthur closely for a moment as he caught his breath. Arthur chose to ignore the concern that was written on his friend’s face as he nudged his horse to a brisk walk, leading the way on the now familiar trail.

They rode along in silence for a while, simply enjoying the early autumn day as a gentle breeze blew through the forest. It stirred the scent of dying leaves before carrying the call of a wolf on the wind. They both stiffened, alert to the potential danger nearby. The pleasant breeze had given the predator their scent, and without any further hesitation, they spurred their horses on back toward the house.

The small pack appeared between the trees just ahead of them and Arthur’s horse skidded to a halt before rearing. His grip on the horn of his saddle slipped, and he landed hard on the ground. The wind was immediately sucked out from his lungs, his body instinctively curling into a ball as he struggled for air. Despite the ringing in his ears, he heard Charles dismount and stand next to him as he drew his weapons. Arthur groaned, the impact sending him into a painful coughing fit as he lied helpless on the ground. He desperately wished he could help Charles, hated how the fall and the coughing it induced had drained his energy. He felt weak and useless, unable to even pull himself up on his own two feet.

A few shots fired into the air seemed to discourage the wolves, their snarling fading away accompanied by the rustling of leaves as they retreated. Arthur saw Charles offer his hand and, despite his bruised ego, took it and was helped onto his feet. He then whistled for his horse, who had miraculously stayed within earshot, and they both mounted up.

Neither of them said a word on their way back. Charles could tell he didn’t want to talk about what had just happened, and he respected his silent wish. Although, he could tell by the deep crease in his brow that his thoughts were stuck on the incident. Arthur was no doubt kicking himself for falling out of the saddle, but if he tried saying something now, he knew he wouldn’t listen to a single word. So instead, Charles simply rode alongside him as they made their way back to the house.

 

 

One month later

 

Arthur sat on the front steps of the cabin as he soaked in the warmth of the sun. A light breeze toyed with his hair and caused the pages in his journal to flutter. He drew a deep breath of the fresh air in through his nose, content to be able to sit outside again without Charles fussing at him. He didn’t mind the man’s company, but he had been determined to keep a close eye on Arthur until he was well again.

His eyes flicked up from the swaying tall grass to the sky dappled with white, feathery clouds. Arthur sighed as he recalled the memory of him and Albert lazily watching clouds in the Heartlands. The memory felt odd to him now. On the one hand, it felt like it was just yesterday they had been in Valentine, and on the other, it was as if it had all happened a decade ago. Both of them had been through so much in the span of a handful of months, making the time in between feel like a whirlwind. Arthur wondered where the gentleman was now and what he was up to. The poor man probably thought he was dead, _again_ , and the thought made his heart twist in his chest. He’d caused Albert so much unnecessary trouble and grief when he deserved so much more.

So much _better._  

Arthur sighed, and a light cough escaped him as he heard Charles join him.

“You seem deep in thought my friend.” He observed as he sat beside him.

Arthur didn’t answer for a while, his hands fidgeting with the blank pages of his journal. When he did finally answer, his tone was somber. “I told a…really good friend of mine that I would write him if I made it out of the mess Dutch made, but it’s been so long. I’m not even sure if he’s moved or not. He probably thinks I’m dead.”

“A lot of people do. Hell, I went up on that ridge to _bury_ you, Arthur.” Charles replied.

“I know you did,” And Arthur almost wished he’d come a day too late. Of course, his friend could see the dark turn his thoughts had taken. It wasn’t uncommon for them to do so, especially in the state he’d been in the last few months. It was written in the dark look in his eyes and furrowed brow, the way the corners of his mouth had turned downward ever so slightly. Charles wordlessly placed a hand on his shoulder, and it was all Arthur needed. He glanced at him, nodded, and tried his best to lift his thoughts out from the mire once again.

“Maybe we can try to find this friend of yours in a week or two. You’ve made amazing progress, but I’d hate to see it all get washed away from pushing yourself too hard.” He said.

“That’s very kind of you, but I ain’t too sure of where to even begin looking for him.”

“We’ll find him, Arthur. With our tracking skills combined, he doesn’t stand a chance.”

Arthur sighed as his gaze shifted to the tops of the tall trees. “I hope you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy!
> 
> Here's a super early update today since I have a six-hour meeting. I know there was only a brief mention of Albert in this chapter, but he is definitely in the next one! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and for all the lovley kudos and comments! <3


	7. The Embers That Endure

It had been just over eight months since Albert had been back in Annesburg. Work in New York had been going well, and he felt confident that he was making some kind of difference by taking part in the muckraking business. His photographs were helping build a case for social reform and laws were changing, but not enough. They needed more proof, and so he had made his way back to a city where he knew the coal miner’s working conditions had remained unchanged.

Albert had arrived at the old mining town only to find that his suspicions had been correct. Annesburg was just as miserable as he’d last seen it. Nothing had changed, and he felt his heart ache as the familiar sights and sounds resurfaced painful memories he had of Arthur and stirred up the grief he was still processing. There was no doubt in his mind that Arthur had passed away a while ago. Albert had concluded as much a month after their last encounter when he had still heard no word from him. His eyes flicked over to the empty bench outside the post office. He regretted doing so immediately as the ache in his heart intensified. As his eyes lingered where they had landed, he was reminded of how he missed Arthur terribly, and he only hoped that the outlaw had found peace in his last moments.

He sighed as he forced himself to look away and decided to begin his work. Albert climbed the hill and made his way over to the mine’s entrance and started interviewing a few of the miners. He wasn’t surprised to find out firsthand that the men had been overworked with hardly any monetary compensation. Yet as horrible as their working conditions were, Albert was thankful for the mild distraction as he scribbled notes in his journal.

Albert finished up the last of his notes and thanked his interviewees for their time. As he tucked his journal away, he felt someone seize the back of his vest and yank him away. While Albert couldn’t see the man he struggled against, he knew it could only be the foreman. The burly, brute of a man had sternly warned him last time about talking to his employees. However, throwing caution to the wind was one of his bad habits. In the past, he had done it for the sake of preservation efforts, and now he was doing it to save lives. Taking the risk was worth it to him. Although, as the foreman dragged him off somewhere, Albert realized that he wasn’t quite as ready as he thought he was to face the consequences.

And Arthur was no longer around to swoop in and save his foolish hide.

He struggled harder against the foreman’s grip as the thought dawned on him, realizing he was all the backup he had. However, it made no difference as he was hauled away and out of the others’ line of sight.

“I thought I told you to keep your damn nose out of my business!” He growled as he pinned him against the side of a building.

“Forgive me for being so bold, sir, but it’s not _your_ business I’m inquiring about. Think of it as getting to know the townsfolk.” Albert replied.

His cheeky reply was rewarded with a hefty punch to the jaw. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Just who the hell do you think you are?”

“Me? I suppose I’m a fool who doesn’t know any better.” Albert grimaced as his head swam from the blow.

“And one who doesn’t know when to quit.” The foreman replied as he threw him onto the ground.

Albert looked up from where he had landed to find that a few of the mine’s guards had joined them. As the foreman stepped closer, he felt the blood drain from his face as he tried to scramble away only to back into the building behind him. Before he could talk the man down, a swift kick landed on his ribs, followed by another.

And another.

And another.

Albert curled in on himself, trying his best to protect himself. As he lay defenseless in the dirt, he bitterly wished he had the revolver Arthur had taught him how to use. His body burned with an agony that radiated throughout him as the blows continued to rain down on him. He closed his eyes as he cried out in pain, a grimace distorting his features. The only clear thought that persisted through the growing fog was that this was it. This was how he was going to die, beaten to death in a town that couldn’t care less.

Yet as his vision began to fade, the blows stopped all at once. Albert tried to look up to understand why but only caught the vague silhouette of a broad-shouldered man before his world went black.

 

Arthur had been riding into Annesburg with Charles when he had heard a familiar voice cry out. It was a sound that caused the blood to drain from his face as he urged his horse to a canter and rode towards the source. While Charles didn’t understand the reason for the change in direction nor Arthur’s urgency, he followed him without question, ready to back him up if need be. Arthur was getting stronger, but he still had a long way to go before he could fight his own battles without help.  

Arthur dismounted before his horse had come to a stop and marched toward the men who were crowded around a man lying in the dirt. He was undaunted by how unarmed he was compared to the guards as he shoved them away from the helpless gentleman on the ground. Arthur’s eyes fell on the man and, with a sickening feeling in his gut, realized his suspicions had been correct.

It was Albert Mason.

A wave of anger consumed him with unnerving ferocity as he seized the foreman by the collar of his jacket. He heard the guards ready their guns as he did so, but his vision was too red for him to care. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charles raise his sawed-off shotgun in turn.

“Call the guards off! Now!” Arthur snarled.

“I’d do as he says before someone gets hurt,” Charles warned. “We only want our friend back before you unnecessarily beat him any further.”

The foreman nervously looked at Charles, then Albert, before his eyes settled on Arthur’s fiery blues. “T-take him! He’s been nothing but a nuisance anyway!”

Arthur shoved him backward before going to Albert’s side. The gentleman was unconscious, and he felt guilt gnaw at him at the sight of him beaten and bruised. Charles holstered his weapon and came beside him before lifting Albert with ease. Arthur watched him as he lifted the man into Taima’s saddle, unable to do much else. He longed to be able to care for him, to be able to hold him in his arms, but there was no way for him to safely do so. Not with the amount of strength he’d lost while trying to recover. He sighed as he mounted his own horse and they set off back to the cabin.

Charles carried Albert inside as Arthur trailed helplessly behind. The two of them worked together to get him settled in a spare bedroom down the hall. Arthur helped when he could, sometimes bringing Charles whatever supplies he needed when he wasn't sitting beside Albert.

He continued this routine into the next day, only ever leaving Albert’s side when he had to. Arthur sat in the chair he had pulled up to the foot of the bed, his arms resting on the back of it as he watched Charles tend to his wounds. He fidgeted in his seat, his eyes taking in the contusions that had discolored Albert’s chest and face. He longed to take them away, pain and all. If given a chance to wear the dark bruises in his place, Arthur wouldn’t have hesitated. He had never seen Albert in such bad shape, and he rested his chin on his folded arms as he hoped to never have to witness such an awful sight again.  

Charles cast a sideways glance his way, studying him with a curious stare. He had noticed how vigilant Arthur had been as he kept his post at the foot of the bed. When he did occasionally have to leave, he had always been quick to return. In the midst of Dutch’s insanity, Arthur had remained calm and unshaken. As Charles watched Arthur, he couldn't help but notice how uncharacteristically tense he was.

“This man is more than a friend, isn’t he?” Charles stated, his matter-of-fact tone making it more of a statement rather than a question.

Arthur jumped at the observation as his gaze met Charles’. He hesitated, unsure if his friend would judge him if he told him the truth. His doubts, however, were quickly quieted. Charles was one of his closest friends, a friend who had taken the time to come back for him and nurse him back to health. Surely, he could trust him with the truth.

“He is, why?”

He shrugged. “Just something I’ve observed is all. You haven’t left his side much since we brought him in, and there’s no question that he’s going to make it. My only question is why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, we were never steady, not really anyway. Dutch’s shit plans kept getting in the way.” Arthur sighed.

Charles hummed in thought. “I understand. Is that why you disappeared for a week? To see him?”

“Yeah,” he said as he scratched the back of his neck. “I guess I could’ve told you then.”

“Arthur, it’s fine. I’m _glad_ you took the time to get away from it all.”

“Thank you, Charles,”

“Of course,” he replied as he rose to his feet, “I’m heading into town to visit the post office, you need anything while I’m out?”

Arthur shook his head. When Charles left, he took his seat that was at the head of the bed.

 

The first thing that occurred to Albert as he awoke was the pain that radiated throughout his body. He was more than sore, and he groaned as he tried to move. Even the slight movement awakened a throbbing pain in his shoulders and ribs. He opened his eyes after the unpleasant sensation subsided and furrowed his brow. The room he was in was unfamiliar, and he had no recollection as to how he got there. His eyes skirted around the room before locking onto the man sleeping in a chair beside him, his chin tucked into his chest. Albert blinked, feeling his thoughts grind to a halt and his heart race at the sight of Arthur Morgan. A sense of unease gripped him without warning. 

"Oh good heavens! I've actually managed to get myself killed!" He squeezed his eyes shut, his thoughts becoming a whirlwind as he tried piecing everything together.

This couldn't be heaven. He was in too much pain. Yet, at the same time, it was impossible for him to be in hell. Having Arthur beside him again was too heavenly for that to be the case. Albert dared to open his eyes again and examined him. Arthur had gained some weight since the last time he'd seen him, looking healthier but still lean compared to when they had first met. His gaze then shifted to the outlaw's hand, and he bit his lip. Maybe he wasn’t dead, but he was surely dreaming again. It wasn’t uncommon for him to have dreams of seeing Arthur again, and he tentatively reached for Arthur's hand and grasped it to find out.

Arthur stirred, his tired eyes fluttering open before lifting to meet Albert's. They were clear now, and the dark circles were gone, but he couldn't help but notice the new silver scars above and between his brows.

“This is the most realistic dream I’ve had.” Albert thought aloud.

Arthur flashed a lopsided smile that made his heart skip a beat. “You ain’t dreamin’, Al.”

“That’s what you say every time.”

He tilted his head, confused by the comment. Had he been dreaming about him since they last saw each other? Arthur swallowed as he felt a sudden surge of emotion. The thought felt like a knife through his chest, and he shook his head before giving Albert’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m real, I’ll prove it to ya.” Arthur leaned in for a kiss that Albert was more than happy to return, although he was expecting to wake up by now like he always did. As he parted, he waited for the moment when he would awaken with an overwhelming sorrow that made it difficult to get out of bed. Yet as he looked up at Arthur’s bright blues, it finally dawned on him that he was completely awake.

They wordlessly stared into each other’s eyes for a moment as Albert searched for words that only eluded him. He finally settled on grabbing Arthur by the collar of his shirt before pulling him in for a tight hug. Albert ignored the pain that flared up in his sore muscles as he clung to him. The outlaw grinned and kissed him where he could, murmuring sweet nothings in a low, husky voice. Albert’s grip was tight, and it was a struggle for him to pull away so he could wipe the tears from his eyes.

Albert took hold of his face as if he was still unsure if he was real. “But you…you said there was nothing that could be done, that you were too far gone.”

“I was, but a friend of mine refused to give up. He brought me here after finding me, and I owe him my life.” Arthur replied. “Actually, he helped you too.”

“Then that makes two of us in his debt.” He mused.

“Sure does,”

Albert ran a hand down his side, feeling ribs that he never recalled feeling before. Regardless, having Arthur in his arms again felt too good to be true. The surrealism of it all was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and all he could do was grin like a lovesick fool.

Seeing Albert smile so wide was a sight for sore eyes. Arthur had dearly missed the gentle curve of his lips and the way it lit up his eyes. He rested his forehead against Alberts and closed his eyes as he fought back his own tears.

For the first time in a while, Arthur felt a lightness in his heart. He had been wanting to find, or at least write, Albert since the day he was able to form coherent sentences again. Not knowing where the gentleman was had left him with no other choice but to sit around and wait until he had fully recovered, and yet, here he was now. Arthur had been waiting for this moment, and with a small smile, it dawned on him how grateful the outlaw was for Charles and his friendship. Arthur owed everything to him, both his life and Albert's. 

Albert ran his hand through Arthur's hair before patting the space next to him. "Lie here for a while, will you? With the fire dying there's a slight chill in the room."

"Is that all I am now, Mr. Mason? A bed warmer?" Arthur smirked as he complied and pulled the covers over them.

"You know that's not what I mean!" 

"I know, I'm jokin' with you." He replied as he gently wrapped his arm around his waist. Arthur pulled him close and pressed his lips against the smooth skin of his shoulder before resting his forehead against him. His eyes closed as he focused on the familiar warmth and scent of Albert.

"Arthur?"

"Yeah, Al?"

There was a pause as Albert's fingers fidgeted with Arthur's hand. "Will you ever be leaving again? With your gang? Because I...I don't think I can take..." his voice faltered and he drew a deep, shaky breath.

Arthur opened his eyes as his eyebrows pulled together, a familiar feeling of guilt settling in his chest. He kissed him along his neck. "All that's done, it's all over. There ain't gonna be no more running and hiding."

Albert smiled, and he intertwined his fingers with Arthur's. Arthur could both see and feel him relax as the tension in his body seemed to melt away. "Thank goodness,"

It was a little while later when Charles came back. He was in the middle of reading a letter he’d received when he entered the guest bedroom where Albert was. When he didn’t see Arthur out of the corner of his eye, he glanced up to find that the two of them were sound asleep together. He paused in the doorway as a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Arthur had expressed concern over how Albert would receive the fact that he was still alive. Yet, from the looks of it, the man had been more than content to have Arthur back in his life. Charles shook his head as he mentally reminded himself to tell Arthur how much he overthought things the next time he came to him with a problem. After stoking the fire that had become nothing more than glowing embers, he left the two of them to sleep in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy!
> 
> Thanks for sticking around! Your comments and kudos have been lovely! <3 I'm thinking there will only be two more chapters of this, but we'll see! I'm excited to write the next one and I think you all will enjoy it.


	8. A Crossroads

Arthur watched Albert, the corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile as the photographer tended to the two horses tethered to a post. Albert had recovered well, only needing a week to get back onto his feet again. It was nothing short of sweet relief to see him back to his usual self instead of bed-ridden and in pain.

When Albert’s back was turned to him, Arthur pulled a cigarette out from his jacket pocket and lit the end. He had somehow managed to purchase a pack of them without Charles noticing and had been able to keep it hidden from Albert. He knew neither of them would approve of the idea, and with Charles busy inside and Albert facing the opposite direction, he decided he was safe sneaking in a smoke.

He took a drag on the cigarette and regretted it as his lungs instantly rejected the smoke with a coughing fit. Arthur hadn’t touched cigarettes in months, and while he had expected to have some trouble, he wasn’t anticipating his lungs to spasm as hard, nor as much, as they did now. With tears in his eyes, he stubbed the cigarette and gasped as he struggled to pull in a full breath of air. Albert was by his side in a matter of seconds as Arthur sat doubled over on the front steps as his coughing began to settle. Charles had stepped out of the house by now, unsure of what had prompted Arthur’s coughing until his eyes settled on the smoldering cigarette beside him.

“What the hell were you thinking Arthur?” Charles scolded.

“I was thinking I wanted a damn smoke!” He choked out.

He shook his head as he folded his arms across his chest. “You’re about as stubborn as they come.”

“Shut up,” he huffed as he wiped the spittle off his chin.

Albert held out his hand, his concern written all over his face. “I’ll be taking those, Arthur, if you don’t mind.”

He did mind, and between the two of them fussing at him, he felt like a child. Arthur muttered under his breath as he dug into his pocket and placed the pack of cigarettes in Albert’s outstretched hand. Albert, having no desire to pick up a habit of smoking, passed the carton along to Charles before returning to the horses. It was clear that Charles wanted to speak to Arthur privately, and he was more than willing to give them their space.

Arthur sighed as Charles took a seat beside him. “I’m a grown ass man, Charles. I can do whatever the hell I want.”

“Sure, but don’t forget that I saved your grown ass. That gives me at least _some_ say over the choices you make.” He jested.

“I could never forget.” He said as he looked up at him. “And I’ll always be in your debt because of it.”

“I’m not keeping a record, Arthur. The only thing I ask is that you take care of yourself. You don’t have to put on the tough-guy act anymore.” He paused and watched Albert as he thought over his next words. “Rains Fall and I have been corresponding over the last month or so. He and his tribe are having some trouble, and I told him I would help.”

“Damn, the Wapiti just can’t seem to catch a break. You’ll have to tell me how Cotorra Springs is this time of year.”

There was another pause. “They’ve settled in Canada now, Arthur.”

“Canada?” Arthur repeated. “Ain’t that a little far?”

“I’m taking the train.”

“And what about Taima?”

“She’s yours now,” Charles smiled. “you take good care of her for me, alright?”

“Of course,” Arthur said, still processing what he was hearing. “When do you plan on leaving?”

“A few days from now,”

He nodded to himself. Arthur wanted him to stay, but he understood that couldn’t be the case. Regardless, Charles had his full support. “Keep us updated, alright?”

“Of course,”

 

Arthur gave Charles one last tight hug before his friend boarded the train. He mounted Taima and watched as the train gradually gained speed. Eventually, he tore his gaze away from the locomotive and tied his original mount’s reigns to his saddle. A strange and confusing feeling pulled at him unexpectedly. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly, but it was almost a nostalgic melancholy. Charles was Arthur's last tie to what his life used to be, and as he watched him go, he couldn't help but notice how tangible the new chapter of his life suddenly felt. He wasn’t an outlaw anymore, no longer one of Dutch’s sons, and the Van der Linde gang was no more. The thought was both liberating and terrifying. Dutch’s gang had been Arthur's identity since he was a boy, and for the first time, he felt autonomous.

He was Arthur Morgan; a former outlaw who was going to live a quiet life, and no one was going to take that away from him.

Arthur smiled to himself at the thought as he made his way through town to start his trek back to the cabin. Although he didn’t make it far before his eyes caught a wanted poster with a decent bounty. He stopped and eyed it for a moment before dismounting to get a closer look. It was for a lawyer who had a lengthy list of trivial wrongs and was wanted alive. Arthur tore the poster away from its nail and tucked it away into his coat pocket.

He mounted his horse once again as he envisioned how the conversation would go with Albert. There was no doubt he would receive pushback at the proposition of bounty hunting, even if he insisted it would only be once. However, there was no denying that they would need to make some money eventually. While Albert’s photos sold, it was the farthest thing from a steady income. There were some months when he sold plenty, and others when he sold none at all. The reward for bringing in the lawyer would be more than enough to last them a while.

The bounty poster weighed heavy in his pocket as he hitched the horses by the cabin. His mind hadn’t left the idea of it for more than a second, and he pulled himself together with a sigh before heading inside.

He found Albert scrutinizing a handful of prints that were spread out on the dining table. There was a deep crease between his brows as he studied each one, searching them relentlessly for any imperfections. Arthur shook his head at the sight as he toed off his boots. The gentleman was a perfectionist through and through when it came to his work, and he exhausted himself doing it.

“I’m sure they’re fine, Al.” He said as he ventured over to the wood burning stove to warm his hands from the November cold.

“You haven’t even seen them, Arthur.” He replied without looking up.

He shrugged as he walked over. “No, but I _have_ seen your work.”

Albert shook his head. “I appreciate the compliment, but unfortunately flattery isn’t what sells these photos. Skill is what sells, and it, unfortunately, seems to elude me quite often.”

“That ain’t true,” Arthur murmured before pressing a tender kiss against his temple.

He bit his tongue, holding back another disparaging comment about his photography. “Well regardless, these have to sell.”

“They will, and maybe in the meantime, I could do something to pull my weight around here for a change.”

“Arthur,” Albert sighed as he turned to face him, “we’ve already talked about this. We’re a team, you don’t need to do anything until you’re well enough to do so.”

“Well, I think I may have found just the right thing today.” He replied as he withdrew the poster from his jacket and unfolded it.

Albert’s eyes widened as he instantly recognized what it was. “You’re joking. Bounty Hunting? Arthur Morgan, so help me, I am not letting you go back to the life you left!”

“Would ya calm down for a second and just let me explain? This ain’t some experienced outlaw who’s been wanted for a while. It’s just a lawyer, Al, nothing dangerous and completely legal. And besides, we could use the money.”

“For what? We have all we need. From what I understand, Charles has taught you almost everything about hunting, and the cost of other supplies can be covered by what we sell between prints and pelts.”

Arthur shifted his gaze to the photos on the table in an attempt to hide his thoughts. “I dunno, maybe we could save up for a place to call our own?”

Albert blinked, unsure if he was being serious. “We already have a home, don’t we?”

He opened his mouth before closing it again. Arthur hated Annesburg. It was a place that had nothing to offer except nightmarish memories, a reminder of all the things that went wrong. “Maybe this place don’t feel like home.”

Albert furrowed his brow and gently turned Arthur’s face toward him. “What do you mean?”

He swallowed as he stared into his searching gaze. “There’s too many ghosts in this town. Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of all the shit that happened.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to consider such a thing.” He said as he brushed his thumb against Arthur’s cheek. “Please forgive me for being so dense and insensitive.”

“It ain’t your fault if I never told you.”

“Yes and no,” Albert replied, “but bounty hunting?”

“It’ll be fine,” he planted another kiss on his cheek, “I promise.” 

Albert sighed. He didn’t like the idea one bit, but there was no sense in convincing Arthur otherwise. In fact, he knew Arthur would get an idea like this eventually. It was only a matter of time before he grew stir-crazy and found an outlet for it. Albert took the paper from his hand and read it himself. The reward was seventy dollars, nothing big but not quite small either. The description was just as Arthur had described and he handed the page back to him. Albert drew a deep breath and ran a hand over his beard as he thought it over.

“Are you _sure_ you’re well enough to go tracking this man down and haul him back?”

“I’ve been resting for months, Al. I’ll be fine.” Arthur insisted.

“Okay, I don’t like the idea of you bounty hunting, but I suppose there’s no harm in it.”

 

Arthur awoke the next morning as the soft, pink light of dawn shone through their curtains. He stretched carefully, trying his best not to wake Albert. Yet despite his best efforts, he felt Albert’s arm snake around his waist and pull him close against his body. Arthur smiled as he felt him nuzzle the crook of his neck. The grip around his waist was tight, and as the photographer’s other arm came around his chest Arthur chuckled to himself.

“You know you’re gonna have to let me go eventually, dontcha?”

“Yes, but it’s too early to get out of bed.”

Even with Albert snuggly clinging to him, Arthur managed to roll onto his other side to face him. They both knew that wasn’t the real reason behind why Albert was holding onto him the way he was now. The gentleman tended to let his fears toy with his thoughts, and by now he had lived with him long enough to know how quickly they could spiral out of control. Arthur pressed a kiss to his cheek and another along his jaw before finally reaching his lips that were parted in anticipation. He kissed him slowly and tenderly, his eyes closing once again as he concentrated on the feel of Albert’s lips against his and the soft glide of his tongue. Arthur’s mouth parted further on its own as Albert sought to deepen the kiss. He felt the gentleman bring a hand up to his face to pull him closer, fingers combing through his hair until his hand found its place on the back of his head.

Arthur had to take hold of Albert’s hand in order to part from him. The gentleman sighed as he did so, but not without sneaking in one last kiss against his neck. Albert realized that the longer he kept Arthur here, the longer he prolonged the inevitable.

He studied the scars on his brow that were still unfamiliar to him, remembering all too vividly how he had nearly lost him. “Please be careful, Arthur. My weak heart can’t handle losing you again.”

He nodded and stole another quick kiss. “I will, I promise.”

Leaving Albert behind was more difficult than he thought it would be. As he gave him his usual finger-gun salute, Arthur had felt the familiar ache of guilt gnawing at his heart. He knew Albert would worry, but they had both agreed that the extra income would help them move towards their goal of finding a new place to live. 

It had taken about a day’s worth of traveling before he saw the smoke of a campfire on the horizon. Arthur took Taima off the path to the top of a nearby hill that overlooked the Heartland plains. He leaned forward as he studied the campsite through his binoculars. Arthur scoffed as he recognized the man as the lawyer pictured on the wanted poster. It had been too easy to track the stranger. He had about as much common sense as a block of wood, making a fire out in the open and making no effort to hide. Arthur shook his head in disbelief over the fact the man hadn’t been caught yet.

The sound of hooves pounding on the path close by reached his ears, but he paid no attention to it. There were bound to be some travelers in the early morning. Yet shortly after, he felt something cinch tight around his arms and chest and without warning he found himself pulled off his horse. Arthur winced on the ground as his coughing stirred up the dirt beneath his face. He swore under his breath, barely able to hear any sound other than the ringing in his head.

“That’s _my_ bounty! I’ve been tracking that sonuvabitch for days now!”

“Days?” he managed to grunt out as he tried to catch his breath. “Clearly your tracking needs some work.”

The rope tightened around him with a forceful jerk that felt like a death sentence. It pulled him against the rough dirt, and he cursed himself, knowing it would leave scrapes that Albert would no doubt ask about when he returned.

 _If_ he returned.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” The stranger snarled.

Arthur could feel his own common sense screaming at him to stop while he was ahead, but he was too stubborn to back down. Aware of the irony of the situation, he realized that he had no right judging the wanted man. After all, it was Arthur lying in the dirt with a rope around him, not the lawyer. Arthur knew it was wise to stop, understood that Albert would’ve wanted him to, yet in his mind he was far too deep in the mess he’d created to quit now.

“I said your tracking needs some work!”

The ringing in his head had started to die down when he heard the stranger come closer and stand over him. A hand grabbed the lapel of his jacket before forcefully turning him over onto his back.

They were both speechless as they stared at one another, chests heaving and eyes wide.

It was Sadie, the fire in her eyes extinguishing all at once as she recognized him. She frowned in disbelief as she looked him over. He could tell what she was thinking, that he should be dead. That the man before her wasn’t real.

“Arthur?”

“Well, this ain’t no way to greet an old friend.” He replied with a lopsided grin.

“It is if said friend never bothered to tell you he was alive!” She teased as she worked to loosen her lasso. She then offered him a hand up which he gratefully took before brushing himself off. “Last I saw you, you were dying of TB. How the hell did you survive such a thing?”

“Charles found me, and if it weren’t for him, I would’ve died that same day I sent you all on your way.”

“Charles? Is he still around these parts?”

“No, I’m afraid you just missed him. He left for Canada yesterday.”

“Damn, I was hoping to say hello.” She replied before cocking an eyebrow. “So you’re bounty huntin’ now?”

Arthur shrugged. “Not really, it’s a long story.”

A smirk spread across her face, her eyes glinting as an idea occurred to her. “Why don’t we bring this one in together, for old time’s sake? I’ll even let you keep all of the money.”

He scoffed. “It’s my money anyway since I found him first, but sure, why not?”

 

Albert stared at the blank page of his journal as he sat on the front steps of the cabin. He had noticed Arthur had a journal of his own to write in, and he had suggested that Albert should get one too. He had recommended it as a tool to help him clear his mind, and while it had helped in the past, the journal seemed too small to hold the things that weighed on his heart. While Arthur had told him he might be gone for a few days, he was still a bundle of nerves while he was away. Albert knew what it was like to lose the love of his life, and that was a feeling he never wanted to experience again.

His eyes snapped up at the sound of hooves along the path that led to their home. However, he couldn’t help but notice that it sounded like there were two horses. It was shortly after that he saw Arthur round the hill. Beside him was a blond woman wearing trousers, and even from afar he could tell she was a force to be reckoned with. His brows knitted together, and he scratched the back of his head as he rose to his feet.

“Albert, this is Sadie Adler.” Arthur introduced as he rode over and hitched his horse. “Sadie, this is Albert Mason.”

“It’s a pleasure,” he said as he offered his hand once she had done the same.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she smiled as she shook his hand.

He mirrored her smile before returning his hand to his side. “If you don’t mind me asking, how do you two know each other?”

“We met about a year ago when I was roped into the Van der Lind gang.”

“When Dutch’s sanity started going south, Sadie did her damn best to have my back and was a great help,” Arthur added.

“It was the least I could do. I wasn’t about to stand around while Dutch and Micah had their fun. Besides, you were one of the few who had his head screwed on straight.”

"Well, any friend of Arthur's is a friend of mine," Albert said. "I'm glad he had someone to watch his back during such a difficult time. Would you like to stay for lunch?"

"Sure, but I'll have to leave after. There are other bounties that need to be picked up."

The three of them fixed something quick for lunch and sat around the dining table. Albert listened intently to the stories that were shared by the two former outlaws, asking questions when it was appropriate. Now that it was all behind them, he was oddly fascinated by the stories of Arthur's previous life. The man he knew was anything but a murderer and a swindler, and the more he listened, the more he understood the root issue of his poor self-esteem. Killing wasn't in his blood, but his upbringing had told him otherwise. He could see now how Arthur had lived in a state of internal conflict, his two selves constantly at war with each other up until now. While the realization saddened Albert, he was thankful to catch a glimpse of what troubled Arthur.

Albert eventually excused himself, explaining that he had to sell some prints to a gentleman in Annesburg. He and Sadie bade one another goodbye as he collected his things and exited the cabin. However, he didn't get too far before he realized he had forgotten the very prints the gentleman had wanted to purchase. Albert shook his head, scolding himself for being so forgetful, and made his way back.

He paused at the door as he tried to recall where he had left the darned things. As he stood there, he discovered that he could hear Sadie and Arthur chatting inside, and as he began to make out their words, the need to find the prints became less of a priority.

"I've noticed you're wearing some new scars. How'd you get them?"

Albert edged himself closer to the door, careful not to make the wood beneath him creak. There was a moment of hesitation before he finally heard Arthur answer.

"I got 'em from a catfight." He replied with a chuckle that sounded forced.

Sadie didn’t respond for a while, and it was clear that she wasn’t satisfied with his answer. "Oh hun, they're from Micah, aren't they?"

Silence flooded the room, making the afternoon bird calls sound unusually loud.

"You know, I've been trying to find that bastard for months now. I could use someone with your tracking skills. What do you say?" She asked.

Albert felt his heart sink at the notion. He had been afraid the one bounty hunting job would lead to more, although he hadn’t anticipated it to come so soon.

Arthur sighed. "I gave up that life a while ago. Besides, I _had_ the chance to put him down, and I failed."

"That was different. You weren't well then. Hell, you could hardly hold yourself up in your saddle when I left you."

"I know,"

"So stop beating yourself up over it, then!” She scoffed. “But it’s understandable that you have different priorities now. You and Albert are a good pair, there’s something special between you two, and I’d hate to get in the middle of that with a pursuit for vengeance."

"Thanks, Sadie,"

"Of course, Arthur. It's the least I can do."

Albert released the breath he’d been holding as a wave of relief came washed over him. He was thankful that Sadie respected Arthur’s wishes, and even more so for Arthur deciding to stay. Smiling to himself, he took a seat on the front stairs and waited for the right time to go inside for his things.

It wasn’t long before he heard the door open and turned to see Sadie. Her brows lifted for a moment, surprised to find him there before her mouth curved into a smile. “I thought you went into town to sell some photos.”

“That was the plan, but unfortunately, being the buffoon that I am, I left them all inside, and I didn’t want to interrupt.” He said. “Are you leaving already?”

“Yep, bounties don’t catch themselves, and if you wait too long someone else will take it from you.” She replied.

“Well, best of luck to you then, Mrs. Adler!”

“Why thank you, Mr. Mason.” She said as she tipped her hat. “You keep taking good care of Arthur. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy before.”

“Thank you! I wouldn’t dream of doing anything of the contrary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! I'm posting an early update since there's no work this week thanks to spring break! Woo! 
> 
> There's probably only one more chapter left of this fic unless I get another idea for a tenth chapter. I'm hoping that's the case since it feels odd to be one short of ten, but we'll see!
> 
> Thank you for your support! Each and every single one of your comments/kudos is much appreciated <3


	9. Old Friends and Memories

Arthur awoke with a start in a cold sweat, gasping for air as he sat bolt upright. With a shaky hand, he searched for the hunting knife he had dreamt Micah had plunged into his chest. The dream had been so unnervingly vivid that for a brief moment he’d been convinced that it actually happened. He drew in a sharp breath through his nose as he ran a hand over his face and tried to regain his grip on reality. The touch of a hand on his arm caused him to jump, and when he saw that it was only Albert, he relaxed.

“Sorry I woke you,” Arthur sighed. He could still feel his heart hammering against his ribs, and while he felt guilty for waking Albert, he was thankful for his comforting presence.

He shook his head as he sat up and soothingly rubbed his back. “There’s no need to apologize, love. That must’ve been quite a hellish nightmare.”

Arthur only nodded as he rested his head in his hands, forcing himself to focus on Albert’s gentle touches rather than the images that were still fresh in his mind. He felt Albert’s lips against his bare shoulder, and his breathing slowly evened as his tender kisses traveled up to Arthur’s neck all while his hand continued to trace both muscles and scars alike.

“What was it about this time?” He asked.

Arthur wiped the sweat from his brow as he recalled the grimace on Micah’s face and the fire that had been around them. In the dream he’d been back at Beaver Hollow, could feel the ache of tuberculosis in his lungs that he hadn’t felt in months. He stared at his hands in silence, his lips forming a hard line that gave Albert enough insight into the dark images that tormented his sleep just moments before.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He finally said.

A crestfallen look came over Albert’s face. Arthur was usually transparent with him, but there were still details from his past, both recent and long passed, that hadn’t been shared. However, Albert knew that trust wasn’t the issue. There was no doubt that Arthur trusted him with his life. If anything, it was Arthur’s way of trying to suppress and cope with his trauma. If he didn’t talk about it, he didn’t need to remember it. Yet, Albert knew that his tactic was only making things worse, and it pained him knowing he couldn’t force Arthur to talk about the things that plagued his mind.

Albert silently nodded to himself and placed a hand on his chest to gently make him lie down once more. With an arm wrapped around him, he pillowed Arthur’s head on his shoulder and closed his eyes.

As comfortable as Arthur was in his arms, he didn’t go back to sleep.

 

The smell of fresh coffee percolating roused Albert from his sleep, and as he opened his eyes, he noticed that there was now empty space where Arthur had been. He stretched and left the room, knowing he would find both Arthur and good coffee in the kitchen. The drink had become his smoking substitute, and Albert found that he couldn’t complain. Arthur had a knack for making excellent coffee, and there was always plenty to go around.

He found Arthur beside the wood burning stove and leaning against the Hoosier cabinet as he wrote in his journal.

“The coffee smells wonderful as always,” he grinned.

Arthur jumped as he looked up from his writing, blinked once, and then returned his smile. “Thank you, Al,”

“Is it ready yet?”

“Not quite, just a few more minutes is all it needs.” He replied as he closed his journal and placed it on the counter.

Albert studied him for a moment, noticing the tired look in his blue eyes. “Were you able to get any sleep last night?”

He shook his head. “Not really,”

While his response saddened him, he appreciated Arthur’s honesty. He went over to his side and took his hands in his. “I’ve been thinking, Arthur, and it occurred to me that a brief getaway may be in order, don’t you think?”

“A what?” He asked, his head tilting as his nose crinkled.

“You know, a vacation, some time away from this dreary place.”

He could tell Arthur wasn’t opposed to the idea and that he was turning it over in his head. “To where?”

“I didn’t get that far in my musings, but I imagine visiting Strawberry might do us some good. I hear it’s quite lovely this time of year, with the leaves changing colors and all.”

Arthur scratched his beard as he thought it over. “I guess getting out of town for a bit couldn’t hurt.”

“My thoughts exactly!”

“I s’pose we could even leave today if you’d like.” He said as he used a towel to lift the coffee kettle before pouring two cups. “It’d be about a nine-hour ride on horseback without stopping. Taking the train would be faster, but we’d have to walk to Strawberry the rest of the way.”

“I think, while taking our own horses will be slower, it’ll allow us to explore and sightsee a little.”

Arthur chuckled to himself as he handed him a cup of coffee. “Sightseeing! That’s rich!”

“I know, it’s a silly thing to do,” Albert replied with a sheepish grin.

“Nah, it ain’t that, I just never really thought about doing such a thing other than the time I was with you in New York. When you have a bounty on your head, you can’t really go wandering around for fun.”

He laughed, relieved to find that Arthur wasn’t opposed to the idea. “That is an excellent point!”

 

The two of them set out on the road after enjoying a conversation over coffee. Arthur was nearly correct in his estimate, and it was just after the sun had set when they had arrived in Strawberry. After hitching their horses outside the hotel, they went inside and paid for a room for the night.

As Albert set his things down on a table beside the wood stove, he felt Arthur’s gaze on him. He turned to face him, confused by the look he found in his eye. It was as if he was marveling at something, although at what, Albert wasn’t sure. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just can’t believe we’re back where it all began.”

His face reddened as he scratched the back of his neck as he recalled the memory. “Right, I remember now. My foolishness nearly got you killed.”

Arthur shook his head as he went over to him. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“Then how _do_ you remember it, if I might ask?”

“Well, for starters I remember how lucky I was to have found you again, the kind and handsome man who I couldn’t get off my mind. I don’t think you realized how happy I was when you asked me to join you on one of your photography trips, and as we were riding out, I kept trying to figure out how to tell you. You were doing things to my head and my heart, and I didn’t know what to do about it. Then you saved my life and shared that you felt the same way towards me too? Hell, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.”

Albert was red in the face when Arthur had finished, but he couldn’t fight the way the corners of his mouth lifted into a broad smile. “You have quite a way with words, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur mirrored his smile and stepped forward to place a kiss on his neck. Albert had initially thought nothing of it since Arthur was fond of neck kisses, but a nip on the exposed skin followed by a soothing lick caused him to yelp at the unexpected sensation. The photographer was more surprised than anything, and the sound was quickly chased by a groan as Arthur unbuttoned his shirt and sucked at the skin just beneath his collar bones.

He soon found himself lying on the bed with Arthur on top of him, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Arthur pulled away from kissing every inch of him, a lopsided grin on his face.

“What’s so funny, Mr. Mason?”

“If I remember correctly, the last time we were here you accused _me_ of being forward, and now look who’s got who on the bed and nearly shirtless.”

Regardless of how confident Arthur had been in his advances, his face flushed, and he shook his head. “You ain’t ever gonna let me live that one down, are ya?”

“No, but only because it was a good joke,” he jested as he cupped his face, “now where were we?”

 

For the first time in a while, Albert awoke before Arthur. He snuggled into him more with a content sigh, enjoying the contrast between Arthur's warmth and the mild chill of the room. The fire that they had started last night was now a modest pile of glowing embers. It was a pleasure for him to hear Arthur’s steady breathing as he slept deeply. It had been far too long since he’d heard it, and he decided that it was one of the most beautiful things he’d heard. Leaving Annesburg had brought an ease to the former outlaw that Albert hadn’t seen in a while, and he was thankful that Arthur was getting the sleep he so desperately needed.

He placed a quick kiss on the back of Arthur’s hand before carefully freeing himself from his grasp. Albert was glad to find that he hadn’t stirred and was still sleeping deeply. A smile spread across his face at the sight, and he got dressed and tended to the fire before leaving the hotel.

It had begun to sprinkle as Albert crossed the dirt path and made his way over to the general store. As he had gotten dressed, it had occurred to him that they had left a few things behind, and Albert didn’t mind getting the tedious tasks done before they could fully enjoy themselves. His eyes caught the bottles of whiskey that lined a shelf, and he paused. Perhaps, he could surprise Arthur with a bottle or two. Although as he eyed the different brands on the shelf, Albert felt a pair of eyes on him.

At first, he attempted to ignore the stranger’s scrutinizing gaze. As nervous as it made him, he tried to convince himself that the stranger would continue on their way if he pretended not to notice. Yet despite his feigned obliviousness, the man walked over to him.

“Excuse me, are you by any chance Albert Mason?”

The man’s voice was both raspy and warm at the same time as if he had gone several days without a drop of water. Albert turned and looked him over. The beard he wore didn’t do much to cover the deep scars along the right side of his face, and at a glance, the man didn’t seem like the type who would be familiar with his work, which left Albert wondering how he knew his full name.

“Why, yes, and to whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

“John Marston, I believe we had a mutual friend once, Arthur Morgan?” He paused as if the mere mention of the name was painful. “He wrote fondly of you in his journal, quite fondly, actually.”

Albert blinked, unsure if he was hearing him correctly. “I’m sorry, he what?”

“Before Arthur passed, he gave me everything he had on him, including his journal,” John explained as he pulled out a leather journal from his satchel that looked unnervingly familiar to Albert.

It didn’t take long for John to find the pages as if he knew the worn journal like the back of his hand. John glanced up at him, hesitating for a brief moment before gingerly handing it to him. John clearly treasured Arthur's journal, and Albert handled it with care as he read the familiar and beautiful cursive. Albert's face flushed as his eyes followed the written words. Arthur, being the gentleman that he was, had refrained from writing anything obscene, but reading his innermost thoughts about the raw adoration he felt towards him was nearly overwhelming.

Albert drew a steadying breath as he looked up at him. “I—I don’t know what to say,”

“You don’t have to explain a word of it. I just thought you might want to know.”

“No, I mean,” he paused as he handed the journal back to him and chose his next words carefully, “Arthur didn’t die.”

John blinked as if he’d been slapped in the face. “What?”

“A man named Charles Smith helped him recover from the tuberculosis. We’re actually staying at the hotel across the street if you want to see him.”

“Charles?” It was John’s turn to be confused, and for a moment Albert swore he saw a brief glimpse of fear as if he was afraid the revelation was a joke. “Arthur’s alive?”

Albert nodded.

“I want to see him,”

 

Arthur stretched as he awakened from his restful sleep. When he opened his eyes, he noticed that Albert was no longer by his side and that the fire in the wood stove had been rekindled. A smile spread across his face, knowing he had Albert to thank for the warmth permeating the room. He had shrugged on a button up after pulling on some pants when he heard a knock on the door. Arthur’s brow furrowed, wondering who in the world would be knocking on his door.

He rose to his feet as he finished enough buttons to be considered decent and opened the door. The sight that greeted him nearly caused his jaw to fall to the floor.

“Marston?”

“Holy shit,” John replied.

Albert’s gaze flicked between the two of them, and he scratched the back of his neck as he excused himself and went down the stairs to give them the space they needed.

For a while, the two of them wordlessly stared at the other without moving.

Then all at once, a wave of emotion came over John so fiercely that his visceral response was to shove Arthur into the room, his lip curled up in a snarl. Arthur grunted as he was forced against the nearest wall and was pinned there by John’s firm grip on the collar of his shirt. He was taken aback by the outburst. While it was typical of John to react to his emotions with physical outbursts, Arthur hadn’t been expecting such a feral reaction.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Arthur snapped.

“What’s wrong with _me?_ I ain’t the one who didn’t say a single word about being alive! You left me thinking you were dead! Jack, Abigail, do you even realize how much I…”

John was breathing hard now, and Arthur knew it was from the violent surge of emotion rather than from the physical effort he made to haul him against the wall earlier. While Arthur had mostly recovered, he was still lighter than he used to be, and John had always been stronger than he’d looked.

“John—”

“I _grieved_ for you, thought that maybe I was the one who…that maybe I was your death sentence, and if it weren’t for me you’d...”

The tremor and break in his voice reminded him of nights spent comforting John back when it was just them, Dutch, Hosea, and Grimshaw. Nights where neither of them was able to find rest from the nightmares that plagued them, still young and wrestling with their own personal demons they had yet to understand at the time. John’s knuckles turned white as the hold on his shirt grew tighter, and he let his head drop onto Arthur's chest. The sight nearly broke Arthur’s heart, and he wrapped his arms around him in an attempt to console him.

“You’re right, I didn’t know where you were, but I should’ve tried sending you something anyway.”

“Damn right you should’ve.” John eventually released his grip and exchanged it for returning Arthur’s embrace. “You made me leave you for dead up there as if you weren’t my family, but you’ve _always_ been family. Leaving you behind left me feeling one of the shittiest feelings I’ve ever felt in my whole damn life.”

Arthur heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, but it was for the best. I’d already been given a death sentence at the time, and for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have made it down that ridge. I would’ve just slowed you down.”

John shook his head. “I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m just glad you’re alive, and you’re lucky I didn’t punch you square in the mouth.”

“It’s good to see you too, John.” He chuckled.

 

Albert could hear their voices from where he sat beside the fireplace, and he tried to distract himself by watching the townsfolk outside. The weather had cleared up by now, and he only hoped that whatever it was between John and Arthur would do the same.

Eventually, he heard the wooden stairs creak, and he looked up to see John and Arthur coming down the stairs. Albert was glad to see that the two of them had managed to work things out. Other than Arthur’s wrinkled shirt, it appeared that their conversation went about as smoothly as it could’ve.

“John’s invited us over for dinner,” Arthur said.

“Abigail’s cooking, though, so I can’t guarantee if it’ll be any good, but at the very least it’ll be edible,” John added.

“Aw come on, that ain’t fair!” He replied with a playful shove. “Mr. Pearson spoiled us by making sure we were the most well-fed outlaws in the country.”

Albert rose to his feet with a chuckle. “Skill aside, enjoying a home-cooked meal in the company of others sounds delightful.”

Their ride to where John was temporarily staying took them just over an hour. When they had neared a small cabin found on the property of Pronghorn Ranch, Albert saw a boy sitting on the front porch. His posture went rigid when he noticed the three of them, and he seemed frozen to the spot until he hastily ran inside. Albert glanced over at Arthur and tried to gauge his reaction. There was a look of awe in his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing but desperately wanted to. He finally blinked a few times before turning to John.

“Was that Jack?”

“Yeah,” John replied.

“Damn, he’s grown so much I hardly recognize him!”

“I know it,”

The three of them dismounted and hitched their horses as Jack and Abigail ran out the door in a flurry. Without hesitation, Abigail threw her arms around Arthur’s neck and pulled him into a crushing hug. He wrapped an arm around her, a wide smile plastered on his face as he ruffled Jack’s hair. Arthur felt his lungs hitch as his heart was gripped by a multitude of emotions. In the back of his mind, he had always wondered if the three of them had made it. He’d laid down his own life to get the Pinkertons off their trail, and for the longest time, not knowing if it had actually worked had haunted him. Seeing the three of them once again alive and well had finally put to bed that lingering fear, and it was nothing short of sweet relief.

Albert watched the warm reunion from just over an arm’s length. While he felt out of place, he was happy for Arthur. His love had reunited with the people who were the closest thing he had to family, and he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of the joy that was radiating from Arthur.

He rubbed his arm and fidgeted with the cuffed sleeve of his jacket as Arthur caught them up to speed on all that had happened. It wasn’t until Arthur said his name that Albert tuned back into what was being said.

“This is Albert Mason. We met, what, almost two years ago? He saved my life once.” Arthur said.

Albert chuckled nervously and shook his head. “Please, that incident pales in comparison to how often you’ve had to save my foolish hide.”

“Oh I remember now! You mentioned him once,” Abigail said before turning to Albert. “You’re a photographer, ain’t you?”

“That I am, although it’s now more of a hobby than anything.”

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s done some incredible work in raising awareness for some social issues.” Arthur boasted, wearing a proud grin as he pulled Albert over by his shoulders.

“Well, it’s not just me bringing to light the darker issues of our society.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he kept his arm around his shoulders. “Just accept the compliment, Al.”

Albert didn’t know what to say to that in the presence of the three newly made acquaintances, and so he erred on the side of caution and said nothing at all.

It didn’t take Abigail much longer to finish making dinner, and all five of them managed to find a seat at the table meant for four. Albert had squeezed in between Abigail and Arthur, and he mostly listened to their conversations.

“I miss Pearson,” John said with a cheeky grin, though Albert caught the glint of wistfulness in his eyes.

“John Marston, you are such a pig!” Abigail chuckled.

“And you say that as if you could do any better!” Arthur added.

“All I said was that I missed the guy!” He said, his laugh betraying his feigned innocence

“I think it’s lovely,” Albert added. “Thank you for letting us join you.”

Abigail flashed a warm smile. “Of course, it’s nice to have some company over for a change.”

As the four of them continued their conversation, John removed himself from the table to retrieve a wooden box from under the bed that was just under the width of a doorway. He and Arthur made eye contact, and with a simple nod of his head, Arthur rose to his feet and followed him outside.  

“What is it, Marston?”

“Well, since you ain’t dead, I figured you might want your things back.” He said as he placed the thin chest on a crate along the side of the house. John opened it as Arthur came up beside him. Sure enough, all his things were inside. John had kept his holster, hat, and sidearms in pristine condition. In fact, Arthur couldn’t remember ever seeing his weapons as clean as they were now and the leather of his holster so immaculately polished. He picked up the volcanic pistol first, eyeing it in disbelief as he turned it over. Arthur set the firearm back in its place before picking up his hat.

His eyes flitted up to John who was intently watching him. “Have you ever taken these out?”

John shook his head. “Only to clean them, they’re all yours if you want them back.”

Arthur silently toyed with the frayed end of the leather cord of his hat before setting it back down. He then felt his heart leap in his chest at the sight of a familiar modest pocket watch with his initials engraved on its cover. It had been a gift from Hosea years ago and had been lost in their hasty escape from Blackwater. After a moment’s hesitation, he picked up the gold timepiece, his thumb running over the etched design in disbelief.

“Where the hell did you find this?” He asked slowly.

“Well, it _was_ going to be held for auction in Blackwater, but it wasn’t theirs to sell,” John replied with a smirk. “I saw it there several months ago.”

Arthur laughed. “Why you sneaky devil you! I appreciate you keepin’ all this safe, but the only thing I’d want to take back with me is the pocket watch.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “And what about the hat?”

“Keep it, I don’t need it no more,”

“What about your journal? Don’t you want those pages about Albert?”

Arthur paused in the middle of tucking away the pocket watch in his jacket and stared at him. “You read my journal?”

“I thought you were dead! What else was I supposed to do with it?”

He rolled his eyes, but the lopsided smirk on his face gave away his mirth. “I dunno, use it as kindling?”

His reply earned a light punch to his shoulder. “You’re the worst, Arthur Morgan!”

The two of them rejoined the others shortly after for a few card games and stories. Eventually, Arthur was persuaded by both Abigail and Jack to describe what had happened on the ridge after he’d convinced John to leave him behind. His reluctance was clear as he told them, except Albert noticed that Arthur's retelling of the story had been vaguer this time.  In its own way, it was reassuring that he'd given Albert more details. Regardless, the photographer slipped his hand into Arthur’s to provide some comfort as he recalled Dutch’s betrayal and Charles ensuring his recovery.

As the night wound down, Arthur and Albert eventually said goodbye to the trio. It was getting late, and as much as Arthur enjoyed being in the company of the Marstons once again, he found that he’d rather ride home safely than run into trouble on their journey back home.

Arthur looked over at Albert as they rode, his face more shadow than light due to the crescent moon shining above them. “Thank you,”

Albert’s brow furrowed in confusion as his gaze flitted over to him. “For what?”

“You didn’t have to take John over to see me, and you certainly didn’t have to come with me tonight, but I’m grateful that you did.”

“Why of course, I love you, Arthur. I know you care deeply for those people, and that the same can be said about them for you. There was no way I was going to leave John believing you were dead. You entrusted him to take care of your things, which told me then that the two of you had been very close.”

 He smiled to himself. “He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother. And Al?”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“I love you too,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I did NOT expect this chapter to be so long! Somehow, it was all written and revised in time so here's chapter 9 <3 Once again, thank you thank you thank you for your support and kind words! 
> 
> Also, as a side note, it does, in fact, take about eight hours to ride at a canter from Annesburg to Strawberry.😂I'm also thinking of adding one last chapter, but if that doesn't happen I'll be sure to let you all know!


	10. Where Sorrow Abides

The December cold in Annesburg, while hardly comparable to the merciless wind and snow of the Grizzlies, was still bitter. It was a damp cold that chilled Arthur to the bone and left him missing his old winter coat. Yet, despite the cold, he still preferred to sit outside where he could be alone with his thoughts. When he wasn’t spending time with Albert, he was usually journaling or sketching his surroundings. His nightmares, while far and few between, were persistent and becoming worse, and Arthur found that putting his pen to the paper in his journal helped him process them.

Arthur brought his hands up to his mouth to warm them with his breath, a soft cloud forming around them that dissipated just as quickly as it had appeared. He drew a deep breath that was quickly interrupted by light coughing. The nuisance had returned when the wintry weather rolled in, and it frustrated him. Although, Arthur knew he was mostly fine and was confident that he wasn’t relapsing. If anything, the cough was simply caused by the damage the disease had left on his lungs. While he had mostly recovered, his health wasn’t what it used to be, and he had tried his best to hide it from Albert.

He cleared his throat and withdrew his pocket watch, his eyes lingering on the cursive initials engraved on the case. As his thoughts wandered to Hosea and the others who he was close to, he couldn’t help but sigh. Life was great now, and he had no desire to change the course he’d taken, but he still missed them terribly, especially Hosea.

Hearing the door open behind him pulled him away from his melancholic musings, and he felt Albert take a seat behind him, his legs on either side of him, and began to massage his shoulders. Arthur was certain he could feel the stress in his tense muscles.

“What’s wrong, Arthur?” He asked.

“I’m just thinking,”

“About?”

Arthur was silent for a while as he continued to fidget with the timepiece, opening and closing the cover several times. “Hosea gave this to me as a gift years ago.” He paused as he pulled Albert’s hand off his shoulder to fit the pocket watch into his palm. “I want you to have it.”

Albert found himself dumbstruck. It was no secret to him how much Hosea had meant to Arthur and how he had seen him as a father figure. The weight of this knowledge seemed to attribute itself to the watch, making it feel heavy in his hand.

“Are you sure, Arthur? It even has your initials on them.”

He scoffed. “Of course, I’m sure, and besides, they’re _your_ initials too!”

Albert smiled and rested his chin on his shoulder. “Right, how could I forget?”

The chuckle that rose from Arthur’s chest turned into another fit of light coughing and Albert’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like how the cough had returned. It brought to mind nothing but painful memories, and it was concerning that he even had it in the first place. Grant it, Arthur had never been the same since the disease had started to show itself, but this was different.

“I don’t think this cold weather is doing you any favors.” Albert finally said.

“You think?” His tone was void of his usual sarcasm, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was cold, feeling unwell, or simply still lost in thought.

“Yes, we may have to rent a place for a while down south until we can figure something out.”

“As long as it ain’t Rhodes.” Arthur sighed.

“As you wish,” he replied as he pressed his lips against his bearded jaw. “I was thinking more along the lines of Saint Denis.”

He groaned. “Saint Denis? Really?”

“It would only be for a short while, just long enough to last through the winter or until we find a place of our own. It’s also one of the few places that I know for a fact has job opportunities for me.” Although, he hadn’t enjoyed said job opportunities the last time he had taken residence in the city, but he was willing to do it for Arthur.

“I dunno, Al. What if someone recognizes me?”

“I hate to break it to you, but in a city as big as Saint Denis, it’s very unlikely that anyone will recognize you. In fact, I don’t think anyone is looking for an Arthur Morgan anymore.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “But I would like to visit Mayor Jean-Marc Mercier before we do anything.”

Albert could hardly believe his own ears. It was a bizarre request that left him wondering what kind of connection he had with the mayor of Saint Denis, and he had his doubts that it was a good one. “Now why on God’s green earth would we want to bring such attention to ourselves?”

“Well, long story short, I spared his life. I’m sure he could return the favor somehow.”

“You _spared_ his life?” Albert asked with a raised brow, catching Arthur’s carefully chosen word.

“Mayor Lemieux wanted me to kill him, but I didn’t.”

Albert chuckled to himself. “Such a gentleman,”

Arthur gently elbowed him for the sarcastic remark, a grin twisting his lips. “Shut up,”

 

The weather in Saint Denis was strikingly different compared to the cold Arthur and Albert had left, and Arthur was thankful that the humidity had decreased immensely since the last time he’d been in the city. As he offered a hand to help Albert off the train, he noticed how the pleasantly warm rays of sunlight felt on his skin. Knowing the weather would drastically change, he’d rolled his sleeves up during their train ride. It was a rejuvenating sensation, and while it wasn’t the western sun he’d been yearning to bask in since he and the Van der Linde gang had arrived at Valentine, Arthur concluded that he could make do in Saint Denis as long as Albert was by his side. The city had never been a place he preferred, but Arthur would rather hole up in a crowded city than stay in a dreadful place like Annesburg.

Albert noticed the change in Arthur’s disposition as he took his silent offer and stepped off the train car. He appeared to be more relaxed than he’d been the last few weeks, which in turn made Albert feel more at ease. He often worried about Arthur’s mental state and seeing the spark return to his eyes once more settled his fears.

They took a streetcar and arrived at the mayor’s house in a short amount of time. Arthur knocked on the door three times and a well-dressed man answered shortly after. He eyed the two of them suspiciously, although he sized up Arthur more than he did Albert.

“Do you have an appointment?” He asked.

“Not really, but me and the mayor know each other,” Arthur answered.

“Oh really?” The man was clearly doubtful, but his distrust didn’t faze Arthur.

“Yes, name’s Arthur Morgan.”

“I’m afraid the mayor is incredibly busy, but I will let him know you’re here. Un instant, s’il vous plaît.”

The man closed the door as he ducked back inside. As they waited, Arthur stared at the far side of the house that led to the large courtyard in the back. Albert shook his head, mostly to himself, before placing a hand on his arm to get his attention.

“Be patient, Arthur. He’ll be back.”

“Sure, but will he let us in?”

“Well, even _if_ that’s the case, which I highly doubt it will be, we can’t just waltz onto the mayor’s property and demand an audience with him.”

Arthur chuckled to himself as if recalling an old memory. “You know, back when I was an outlaw we didn’t honor such a thing like private property.”

Albert shot him a steely side glance. “I believe it, but you _aren’t_ an outlaw anymore. You promised never to go back to that life again.”

“I know, just reminiscing is all.”

He studied him, unsure if Arthur was telling the truth. Albert opened his mouth to ask him something but was interrupted by the stranger returning before he could utter a word.

“Le Maire Jean-Marc has asked to see you at once.” He begrudgingly informed them as he stepped aside to let them in. “You will find him in his office. He said you would know the way.”

Albert followed Arthur as they strolled through the grand entrance and towards a stairway on the left. His eyes landed on the courtyard just ahead, bathed in radiant sunlight, and he couldn’t help but fondly recall the night he’d met Arthur at the former mayor’s party. It felt like a lifetime ago, and he absentmindedly placed a hand over the pocket watch tucked away in his vest pocket as his thoughts lingered on his first and only encounter with Hosea. It was an honor to have met him at all, but Albert wished he had been given another opportunity to speak with him.

They soon entered a room with walls that were lined with bookshelves and cabinets. Jean-Marc stood beside one of the shelves full of literary masterpieces and looked up from the book he was reading with a smile.

“Ah! Mr. Morgan! How wonderful it is to see you again.” He said.

“Likewise,” he replied as he tipped his hat.

The mayor closed his book as his eyes scanned Arthur with an attentive once-over look. “Have you been well?”

“For the most part,” He shrugged.

“And who is this?”

“This is my partner, Albert Mason. He’s a photographer.” Arthur replied.

The well-dressed man cocked an eyebrow. “Romantic partner or business partner?”

“The former,” Albert answered as he held out his hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jean-Marc enthusiastically shook his hand. “The pleasure is all mine! Believe it or not, I think I recall seeing your incredible work displayed at the local gallery. Lemieux only saw the political value of your prints and recognition, but you, kind sir, are truly an artist.” He then turned to face Arthur. “Don’t lose this one, he’s a keeper.”

Arthur chuckled to himself. “I intend to keep him as long as he’ll have me.”

Jean-Marc grinned at that before continuing. “So, what brings the two of you to Saint Denis?”

“We’re trying to scrounge up enough money to get a place of our own. Albert’s going to get a photography job, but I was wondering if you had anything available for me.” He said. “Doesn’t have to be anything big.”

“Well, I’ve certainly seen and experienced what you’re capable of firsthand, I’m sure I could use an extra bodyguard. I would pay you well, and I would even pay for a room at the boarding house by the saloon.”

Albert felt his stomach turn. A job as a bodyguard was too similar to the life he’d help Arthur escape from, and the last thing he wanted to see was Arthur throwing away all that they had worked to overcome together. His eyes nervously skirted over to Arthur, watching him and waiting with bated breath for his answer.

“Why, that’s very generous of you! Thank you, Jean.” Arthur said.

The mayor shrugged as he made his way to his desk to write what Albert assumed was a note for them to bring to the boardinghouse. “Of course, it’s my pleasure!”

For Albert, it felt like ages before they were alone outside, having stepped out and walking down the neat cobblestone path. They hadn’t even reached the gate when he finally couldn’t hold his words in any longer, and he took Arthur by his hand and pulled him back.

“What do you think you’re doing, Arthur? We never talked about this!” Albert blurted all at once.

Arthur appeared to be taken off guard at first, and he shook his head. “What I’m doing is pulling my own weight, Al.”

“Not in the current state you’re in you’re not. You _have_ to take care of that cough first.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine,”

Albert drew a deep breath before replying. “The last time you insisted you were fine, you wound up diagnosed with TB. Please, Arthur, I—”

Arthur’s stare hardened in an instant, a look that was rarely shot Albert’s way. Arthur was tired of being nagged at and pestered about his health. He had tried to convince himself that it frustrated him as much as it did because it made him feel like a helpless child. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he realized he just simply didn’t know what to do when people showed genuine concern for his wellbeing. For the longest time, Arthur had been nothing more than a workhorse. He felt lost without that identity, as unhealthy as it had been, and it confused him that Albert was more than willing to shoulder the responsibility of providing for both of them. Unfortunately, Arthur’s frustration only ever came out in biting words or in a physical response. He swore to never lay a hand on Albert out of anger due to the abuse he’d endured from his father years ago, and so it was the former that reared its ugly head when his frustration had peaked.

“Now where the hell did you get the idea that you could tell me what to do?” He retorted. “I’ve got enough on my mind, and I don’t need you badgering me about some stupid cough that ain’t ever going away!”

Albert flinched at the response and let go of his hand. He and Arthur had experienced their own share of disagreements, but the sharp tone in his voice caught him off guard. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I guess I only want you to see that you don’t have to work yourself into the grave anymore. I’d rather see you healthy than have any amount of money.”

Arthur sighed, his frustration melting away as he ran a hand over his face. “No, _I’m_ sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I just…well, I guess I just feel too lucky having you by my side. There’s nothing I’ve done to deserve you, and yet here you are.”

It was as clear as crystal to Albert that, while Arthur was telling the truth, there was something deeper that he was hiding. Something that Albert had been trying to get him to reveal for a while. He knew something was troubling Arthur, and he had been unsuccessful every time he tried prying for it. Regardless, Albert couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth as he brushed his fingers against his cheek. “Now what have I told you about saying those things?”

He grunted in amusement. “Well, it’s true, ain’t it?”

“Not a single word,”

Albert felt his heart skip a beat the way the corners of Arthur’s eyes crinkled with his smile. He planted a kiss on Albert’s cheek and straightened his hat. “Come on, let’s get settled in at the boarding house.”

 

Albert set down the bag as soon as he entered the room and collapsed onto the settee. He had forgotten how tiring it was to photograph individuals with egos large enough to supply the entire city of Saint Denis. It had been almost a week since they arrived, and he found the stifling atmosphere of the photo studio to be exhausting. Albert drew a deep breath in through his nose before exhaling in an attempt to relieve the tension that gripped him, yet it only did so much.

He wasn’t surprised. The tension that had clung to the muscles in his shoulders and neck were from the stress he had tried to hide from Arthur. Albert wasn’t sure what his new job entailed, and his hyperactive imagination had spun stories of what-if scenarios that only made him worry about Arthur’s safety. There was no telling what he did throughout the day, and when Albert had asked him about it, Arthur’s reply had been brief and vague, but he was always quick to reassure Albert that his duties were perfectly legal.

Albert had started to drift off when he heard the door open. He opened his eyes to see Arthur walk in, but the state he found him in had Albert sitting up quickly. There was a black eye beginning to form on the right side of his face, and the knuckles on his hands were bruised and swollen.

Albert was by his side in an instant, his brow furrowing in concern. “What happened?”

“Calm down, Al. It was just a small fight.” He said as he waved him off. “Just some fool and his friend who got too close to the mayor.”

He ignored him. “I know you want to help, but you don’t have to do this. If you really want to, as you say, pull your weight, there are plenty of other things you can do out there and—”

“Not this again,” Arthur groaned. “There are some things I’m good at, and it ain’t very nice, but at least it’s _something_. Money don’t just appear overnight.”

Albert looked him over and chose his next words with the utmost care. “We can make do as we continue to save up for a house wherever you wish, but what I want more than that is for you to consider what you’re doing. I couldn’t care less about the money as long as I have you. That’s something that won’t ever change.”

Arthur stared at the ground for a moment as he avoided his gaze. “Everything’s fine, I’m only doing this for another week and then we can leave.”

He was silent for a while as he inspected the contusions that had begun to color the skin around his eye. Albert had seen worse on him, although it still concerned him that he had gotten into a fight at all. “I’m not sure what it is you’re trying to prove but know that I’m here for you. I _want_ to be here for you, but I can’t if you won’t let me.”

Arthur tried to search for the right words but found he had nothing to say.

Albert eventually sighed after waiting a moment and smoothed Arthur’s shirt for him. “I’m heading to the post office to see if there’s a letter from Charles. Is there anything you want me to get while I’m out?”

Arthur simply shook his head, and with that, Albert exited the room.

Albert rode a streetcar to get to the post office and checked his pocket watch as he entered, unaware that he had caught a stranger’s interest.

He went up to the clerk and gave him his name. There had been only one letter waiting for him, and one glance at the return address told him it was from Charles. With a smile, he tucked the envelope away in his satchel. Albert then stepped aside and paused beside the circle of chairs in the middle of the station where he pulled out the timepiece again, this time taking a moment to appreciate the artful engravings before clicking it open to check the time once more.

“That’s a beautiful pocket watch you have there, my friend.”

Albert jumped at the unexpected greeting, unintentionally closing the cover in the process. He eyed the stranger who was about an inch or so taller than him. “Thank you, a close friend of mine just recently gave it to me.”

“Really?” The stranger seemed genuinely interested, his eyes dropping to the engraved case as his fingers absentmindedly stroked his full beard. “I had a son who had been given a timepiece almost identical to that one. Engravings and all,”

Albert felt the blood drain from his face as he connected the dots. Without warning, he felt a tightness in his chest as he recognized the man’s deep voice from the bank job that had gone south. At that moment, he had no doubt in his mind that he was speaking to the infamous Dutch van der Linde.

Albert forced a smile. “Small world, we must share the same initials.”

“Very small,” he replied as his dark eyes studied him.

Every fiber of his being wanted to leave, to put as much distance between him and the outlaw, but fear rooted him to the spot as Dutch took another step closer.

“How is he?” Dutch asked.

Albert blinked. “I’m sorry, who? Forgive me for being so dense, but I’m not sure who you’re referring to.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re a terrible liar, Mr. Mason.”

Albert steadied himself with a deep breath, taking a moment to reassure himself that he only knew his name from catching it when he had given it to the clerk, and straightened himself. Without warning, a fiery indignation ignited by the audacious question consumed him. Dutch had caused Arthur a tremendous amount of physical and emotional pain, and underneath Albert’s calm exterior was a pool of resentment he held specifically towards Dutch and Micah.

“He’s as good as he can be, no thanks to you, of course.”

Dutch chuckled to himself, and Albert wasn’t sure if it was caused by genuine amusement or disbelief from his bold statement. “Well, regardless, please give Arthur my warmest regards.”

And with that, Dutch left to join a man with a mean look and a mustache that was paired with a set of muttonchops. It wasn’t until Albert had watched them leave the station and board a train that he exited the building himself.

He didn’t go straight back to the boarding house at first. In fact, his first stop was the rundown saloon that was down the street from the photo studio he worked at. Albert was paranoid that the two men would follow him and discover where Arthur was, and there was a tremor in his hands that only a stiff drink could take care of.

The skeevy saloon was surprisingly uncrowded, and Albert ordered two shots of whiskey, figuring it would be enough to soothe his nerves. The place reeked of the stench of cigarette smoke and other substances he’d rather not think about, but the other saloon was too close to the boarding house. His goal was to distance himself from Arthur for a while _if_ he had been followed, and after an hour or so of biding his time, he saw that the coast was clear and finally left to start heading back.

The way he entered the room must’ve told Arthur something had happened. He rose to his feet and crossed the room in just a few steps and gently place his hands on his shoulders. Arthur’s brow furrowed as his nose caught the scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol. Had it been anyone else, he wouldn’t have thought twice about the smell, but Albert never smoked, and the photographer hardly touched alcohol.

“Al? What’s wrong?” He asked.

Albert drew a shaky breath and lifted the hat off his head to run his fingers through his hair. “I advise that you take a seat somewhere before you hear this one.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the odd suggestion. “Just spit it out,”

“Well…good heavens, how do I say this.” He sighed. “I saw Dutch at the trolley station when I picked up our mail.”

“You _what?_ ”

Albert hesitated before he continued, noticing how Arthur’s posture had gone rigid. “He told me to give you his regards.”

In an instant, Arthur felt his ever-present, simmering anger towards Dutch come to a full fledge boil. Like a switch, a rage consumed him as his face grew hot, and he paced the room as he processed Albert’s words.

Albert could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, and he waited silently as Arthur breathed heavily through his nose, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“His _regards_ ,” he sneered with bitter resentment, “that cowardly son of a bitch!”

Albert listened as the venomous obscenities continued to roll off his tongue, and he was unsure how much time had passed before Arthur finally took a seat on the settee with his head in his hands and elbows resting on his knees. It pained Albert to see him like this. He didn’t know the scope of Dutch’s betrayal, and for one message to elicit such a strong reaction told him enough. Yet as much as it saddened him, he was oddly grateful that Arthur was finally allowing his suppressed grief to reach the surface after being hidden away for so long.

Arthur sat there looking utterly exhausted and broken, his shoulders slumped forward in defeat. The silence that filled the room was deafening, and when Albert heard the soft hitch in his breathing, he felt his heart break with it.

When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strained and small. “Why did he leave me for dead, Al? He said…said I was more than a son to him. I gave him all I had until there was nothing left to give.”

Albert took a seat beside him, caressing his back as the tears flowed from Arthur’s eyes. The photographer longed to take his pain away, realized that he would go through hell or high water to sew his heart back together. “I don’t know, love, but I wish I did.”

“Everything he told me was a lie,”

Albert took hold of one of his hands and pressed his lips to the back of it. “Perhaps not everything,”

Arthur shook his head. “That blond-haired rat, Micah, got into his head. Knew his weaknesses and preyed on them like the little shit he is.”

The brief, unintentional description perfectly matched the stranger Albert had seen at the trolley station, and the realization that he had encountered the vile man known as Micah sent a chill down his spine.

They sat in silence together as Arthur finally grieved all that had happened. Albert continued to stroke his back with one hand as he held Arthur’s hand with the other. Neither one of them felt uncomfortable, both of them simply just sitting together as Arthur stopped holding back all that he had kept deep inside.

Arthur was grateful for the way Albert let him weep. There were no words of encouragement, no sweet nothings, and Arthur oddly found that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Just the mere presence of Albert assured him that he wasn’t alone, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

When his tears seemed to finally cease, Albert offered him a handkerchief from his pocket. He gladly accepted it, a small smile forming on his tear-stained face as he dried his eyes.

“Thank you, Al,” he said, his voice now hoarse and more gruff than usual.

Albert placed a kiss on his temple and adjusted their position so that they were both lying down, his arms around Arthur as the former outlaw lied half on top of him. The settee wasn't wide enough to fit both of them side by side, but the position was oddly comfortable regardless.

Arthur tucked his face into the crook of Albert’s neck and closed his eyes, thoroughly exhausted. The warmth he felt from Albert combined with his scent eased his mind, and he drew a deep breath of it, loving the lingering notes of Albert’s cologne. “I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

He chuckled. “I forgive you, Arthur. I’ve had the sneaking suspicion something was bothering you for a while now, although I hadn’t been sure as to what it was. It was only a month or so ago when it occurred to me that you had never really been given a chance to process everything you went through.”

Albert felt him nod as he slid an arm around his waist.

It wasn’t too long after when Arthur’s breathing slowed and became deep and rhythmic. Albert couldn’t blame him for falling asleep. Between the fistfight from earlier and the exhumation of buried emotions, there was no doubt that he was exhausted. Albert closed his own eyes. It was a relief that Arthur had finally let himself begin to process what had happened in Roanoke, and Albert considered it a privilege that Arthur had let him help the former outlaw on his road to recovery.

Yet as he let his thoughts wander, the brief glimpse he’d had of Micah filled his mind. There was a part of him that hoped the scoundrel would eventually reap what he had sown and pay for his wrongs, but Sadie seemed to be on top of that task. Neither Albert nor Arthur were in the position to play the role of judge, jury, or executioner. While Albert hadn’t spent much time with Sadie, he knew that she was capable of the violence she promised.

The thought seemed to settle his mind and racing heart, and he gave Arthur one last kiss on his forehead before falling asleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delayed update! I had a few meetings at work and only got around to truly writing this the last few days. Honestly, I didn't intend for this chapter to be so much longer than the others, but here we are! 4.8k words later! 
> 
> I'm hoping to add an epilogue of sorts that's going to be pure fluff and happiness since this chapter ended up being quite angsty. Also, bonus points if you caught the very small Wolverine reference!
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you for your continual support and lovely comments! I can't believe this series is wrapping up, and I have featherinastorm to thank for inspiring me to write sequels to "The Trouble with Wanting". <3


	11. Paradise Found

Arthur sat in the grass with his back to a tree as he watched the way Albert incessantly worked at his camera to capture the rolling hills of the Great Plains. The last few months had felt like a dream come true. After working for the mayor for two weeks, they had earned enough to buy and build their own home just outside of Blackwater.

Arthur couldn’t help but smile as the man talked to himself under his breath as he took the utmost care to adjust his camera just right. It was an endearing quirk, and Arthur admired him for the amount of effort he put into his craft. Although, Albert’s striving to capture the perfect shot was borderline obsessive at times due to his perfectionistic tendencies, and today was one of those days where this trait had decided to show itself. Albert had been working at the settings for more than ten minutes now, muttering under his breath occasionally with a shake of his head.

“I think at this point it’s as good as you’re gonna get it,” Arthur finally said.

“It’s the lighting. If I can just get my clumsy hands to adjust the aperture just right…” He replied before trailing off.

“There ain’t anyone who’s gonna notice the, uh, the lighting.”

Albert didn’t respond as he continued to fiddle with the settings, half hunched over to stare through the lens as he ignored him.

Arthur sighed and watched him a little while longer before closing his eyes. He could at least say that he tried. They were both stubborn, and after living together for nearly half a year, Arthur had learned that some battles just weren’t worth fighting. It was maybe five minutes later when he felt Albert sit beside him and he opened his eyes again.

“Did you manage to get it?”

“I think so, although I won’t know for sure until I get it developed,” Albert replied as he stared out at the mountains in the distance. The two of them sat in companionable silence as the photographer’s thoughts wandered, and he couldn’t help but find his thoughts returning to the words Arthur had written about him in his journal. John had let him keep the pages before they’d left his house, figuring they should be in his hands rather than sitting on a shelf somewhere collecting dust. Albert had often gone back to read those words that so easily warmed his heart, although, even now, a small part of him doubted it was possible for anyone to love him so generously without any strings attached.

Albert rested his head against Arthur’s shoulder as he recalled the words with ease. “Is it true that you felt like an adolescent youth, stumbling over his words, with a heart as restless as a wild mustang in a coral when we first met?” 

Arthur felt his face flush with embarrassment as he recognized those very same words from one of his journal entries. “How’d you know ‘bout that?”

“When I first met John, he showed me what you had written about me. He then handed me the torn-out pages for me to keep before we left.”

Arthur hesitated before answering, his heart stumbling over its own rhythm as he tried to recover his ability to speak. “I’m gonna kill him. You read my journal?”

“I had thought it was a letter or something you had meant to send but never did when he handed it to me!” Albert stammered. “I’m sorry,”

The way he responded caused Arthur to laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Al! But yes, I didn’t know what the hell to do around you. You weren’t the only one who felt like a fool.”

Albert smiled sheepishly and scratched his arm. “I’m glad I wasn’t alone in that, although it would’ve been nice to have known at the time.”

“My apologies, Mr. Mason,”

“Apology accepted,” he chuckled as he took Arthur’s hand in his. There was another question, however, buzzing around in his mind. Although it was a question that made his mouth go dry and his chest feel tight. Arthur had written about the fear he had of losing Albert like he had lost Eliza and Isaac or losing him in the form of rejection as Mary had rejected him. There had also been a sentence that had stood out among the others, one that made Albert worry about him. In that line, Arthur had expressed uncertainty of what he would do if that fear were to become a reality.

He drew a deep breath before speaking again. “How did you find the courage to love again after all the loss you endured?”

Arthur was silent for a while before he finally answered. “I dunno, I guess I knew after the incident with the mountain lion that I could trust you with my life,” he paused as he gave Albert’s hand a gentle squeeze, “and that maybe I could even trust you with my heart.”

“And how did you cope when that happened? When you lost Eliza and Mary, I mean.”

“The gang at the time was like family to me. They helped pull me through that dark time.”

Albert bit his lip. He had a feeling that would be the answer. “Please don’t stay on your own if, God forbid, I pass away unexpectedly. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Arthur sighed. “I take it you read that part too from my journal?”

Albert nodded somberly. “Feeling grief is one thing, but the last thing I want is for you to wallow in misery.”

Arthur wasn’t sure if he could promise such a thing. There had been so much loss in his life, from losing his only child to losing people who were the closest thing to family he had. The thought of losing Albert too was almost too much to bear. His love for Albert had taken over his heart completely, and he was sure that his heart would collapse if something were to happen to him. Arthur’s heart was already damaged enough. Would he even be able to bear another loss?

Albert could sense the strong shift in Arthur’s thoughts and emotions. While he felt a twinge of guilt for bringing up the morbid topic, he was glad that he did. The page that he’d read had given him good reason to worry and being able to encourage Arthur to continue living without him, if the need were to arise, lifted a weight off Albert’s shoulders. Albert turned his head to place a light kiss on his neck before planting another on his cheek.

The photographer’s affection brought a smile to Arthur’s face again. “Did you want to take a few more photos before heading back to the house?”

"I think I just might, you never know which photo will turn out." He said as he rose to his feet and returned to his camera.

Arthur chuckled to himself and folded his arms across his chest as he watched Albert. After a while, however, he found himself nodding off, his head lowering with sleep as his chin became tucked against his chest.

It had been around twenty minutes later when Albert checked the time on his pocket watch. It was nearly time for supper, but he froze at the sight he saw when he turned to tell the news to Arthur.

A large buck had made his way over to Arthur's side and was tentatively sniffing at his ear.

The sight was jaw-dropping. Albert's heart raced in his chest, and he slowly bent down with as much care as he could muster to take out his handheld camera that he kept handy for situations that only lasted a moment. He drew a slow, deep breath as he removed the lens cap and took the photo as the deer began to nibble on his earlobe. Still asleep, Arthur lazily reached up to bat the deer away, and Albert brought a hand to his mouth as he tried to stifle a chuckle. However, the deer was unfazed by the movement as it continued to inspect Arthur.

Albert snapped another photo as the deer's ears swiveled and its head lifted abruptly, its body tensing before fleeing a moment later. At first, Albert had thought it was the click of his handheld that had startled the animal. Yet as he returned the camera to his bag, the sound of pounding hooves in the distance told him otherwise.

Albert straightened himself as he faced the direction from which the sound was coming from. He squinted as he tried to make it out, and then felt his heart drop to the ground. Riding over the hill straight towards them were two well-dressed men. Arthur must've heard the horses closing in too for he was by Albert's side in an instant. For once, Arthur seemed to be more on edge than he was. The former outlaw was hardly ever unsure of situations, and even when he was, he had a knack for hiding it. Yet Arthur was uncharacteristically tense, and the sight sent a wave of fear through Albert. It left as quickly as it came, however, as he felt Arthur give his shoulder a brief reassuring squeeze.

"I'll take care of this. Don't say a word unless they speak to you." He warned lowly.

Albert simply nodded as the two men dismounted their horses, any and all words caught in his throat.

Arthur fought the urge to square his shoulders as the men came over. He had recognized one of them at once, although the name still slipped his mind. They had met before when he'd taken Jack fishing in the Heartlands, and Arthur only hoped the agent didn't recognize him in turn.

Arthur forced a smile as he took on an easy-going veneer. "Howdy, mister! How can we help you folks today?"

The agent he recognized studied them before eyeing Albert's camera. "I'm Agent Ross, and this is my friend Agent Fordham. We’re with the Bureau of Investigation. Are the two of you simply visiting Blackwater or do you live in these parts?"

"We've been around for a while," Arthur answered, trying to keep his answer vague. "Why?"

"Perhaps you can help us, then. We're looking for some former members of the Van der Linde gang, particularly two men by the names of Micah Bell and Dutch van der Linde. Do you know anything about them?"

"Other than them being dangerous outlaws? No sir, haven't heard a word." He replied. "Have they been seen around here?"

Ross looked him over curiously, a deep crease between his brows. "Now that I can't say, why do you ask?"

Arthur shrugged. "That gang’s brought some dark times onto Blackwater. The fact that you're asking us about them makes me fear they've settled back in for another bloody hit."

Ross didn't seem convinced. "You let us worry about that, mister…?”

"Callahan, Isaac Callahan,"

"Well, Mr. Callahan, Agent Fordham and I will make sure Blackwater stays safe." He paused as he gave Arthur another scrutinizing once over that made the former outlaw nervous. "Have we met before, Mr. Callahan?"

"No, sir, I’ve just got an unfortunate face."

Ross exchanged a look with Fordham before finally nodding to himself. “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Callahan.”

Arthur nodded. “You take care, now.”

It wasn’t until after the two agents had left that Arthur finally let down his carefree façade with a shaky exhale. Albert removed his hat and ran a trembling hand through his hair as he looked over at him.

“Did you know him?” Albert asked, despite fearing the answer.

“I met him once. He was working for the Pinkertons when he interrupted my fishing trip with Jack.”

Albert watched the two men ride down the dirt path as he thought over his next words. “I didn’t realize you were so good at lying.”

Arthur laughed at the observation. “When you’re growing up around a bunch of liars and thieves, you learn a thing or two, and Hosea was the best there was at it.” He recalled fondly.

“Have you ever lied to me?”

Arthur’s mirth disappeared at once as he held both of Albert’s hands. “No, not ever like that. Maybe a white lie here and there, but I’m trying to get better. You can trust me.”

“Do you think they’ll come back?” He asked.

He stared into his hazel eyes for a moment before answering, knowing the order of his questions had been intentional. “I don’t know, Al, but know that I’d fight tooth and nail if they ever laid a hand on you.”

“It’s you that I’m more worried about.”

“You leave that to me, now that I know they’re sniffing around, they ain’t gonna be able to sneak up on us.”

The tension left Albert’s shoulders as he rested his forehead against Arthur’s. “Good, because even if I _did_ fight tooth and nail for you, I don’t think it’d do much.”

Arthur chuckled to himself. “I taught you how to shoot, didn’t I?”

“Please, Arthur, my hands shake too much to be reliable. Have you already forgotten our run-in with the O’Driscolls?”

He sighed and brought his hands up to cup Albert’s face. “Listen, they ain’t gonna bother us again. We’ve got a place of our own now, and nothing’s going to get between us. Not Dutch, and definitely not the government.”

Albert nodded as he searched Arthur’s blue eyes, finding himself convinced by the sheer sincerity in them. It was easy to get lost in them, especially when they promised nothing but love and safety. The two of them had made a home for themselves near Blackwater, but truthfully, Albert knew anyplace could feel like home as long as he was with Arthur.

“Arthur?”

“Yes?”

The corners of Albert’s mouth turned up into a smile as he wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck. “I love you,”

His eyes lit up as he mirrored his smile. For a moment, Arthur just stood there, reveling in Albert's genuine affection and adoration. His heart felt abundantly full, almost overwhelmingly so. It spilled over inside and made him warm all over, and it nearly overflowed from his eyes before he finally spoke.

“I love you too, Al,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness you guys, I can't believe this series has finally come to a close! Thank you for coming along this journey with me and for supporting me with your comments and kudos! 
> 
> While this is most likely the end of this series (who knows if I'll think of something else), I am currently working on a modern AU with these two. I'm super excited to share it with you as I've already gotten it started and roughly outlined. 
> 
> I hope you all are having a lovely day! Thank you once again for taking the time to read my work! <3


End file.
